I M %^Qt 2)aie8 of 

Iknicherbocker Xife 

in Bew l^orh M ^ 



BY 

Hbram (t. Bai^ton 



"Human portraits^ faithfully drawn, are of all pictures the 
welcomest on kiititan -walls" — Carlyle. 



IfllustratcD HDltton -'^Iv^mHi' 



6. p. iputnam'0 Sone ^^ 

:::::::::: 1897 



*^ 



.V 



Copyright, 1880, by 
CHARLES W. DAYTON 

Illustrated Edition 

Copyright, 1896, by 

CHARLES W. DAYTON 






"Cbe IRnicberbecljer ipress, IRcw IJorfe 



TO MY MOTHER 

a noble woman 

this new edition of my father's book 

is affectionately 

dedicated 

Charles W. Dayton 
Nov., i8g6 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction. By Richard B. Kiinball . . xvii 

Note to the Illustrated Edition. By Charles 

W. Dayton xxiii 

Author's Preface xxvii 



CHAPTER I. 

The New York of 1830 — The city's extreme limit — 
How large fortunes came from the old farms — Sun- 
day in those times — The old Knickerbocker Home 
— Hospitable habits — Early hours — Knickerbocker 
drinks — Dutch Reformed Church — The sermon — 
The walk home — Fashions in woman's dress — Mrs. 
Croesus — Madame Nouveau-Riche — Woman's modesty 
and charm — Knickerbocker hospitality — Grand- 
mother's pantry— Grandmother's parlor — The thin- 
legged piano — Grandfather's toddy — Change from 
simplicity to display ..... 1-29 

CHAPTER II. 

The Battery — The fashionable promenade — Castle 
Garden — Yachting and rowing — Tompkins Blues 
and Pulaski Cadets— Origin of the "Old Guard" — 



y[ Contents. 

Washington Hotel - Whitney, Phoenix, Schenck, 
Schermerhorn, and Ray move up-town— Peter Bayard 
the epicurean-Turtle soup and port-Miss Mann's 
boarding-house-Her guests-The City Hotel-Its 
famous furniture— Its table-Its wine-cellar-The 
Knickerbocker dinner-hour— Colonel Nick Saltus— 
His costume— Werckmeister the toy importer— 
Hollingsworth and his self-imposed duties . 30-55 

CHAPTER III. 

Captain Barker, the would-be philanthropist-His dis- 
approval of the Colonel and Hollingsworth— Trans- 
Atlantic package ships and clippers— Agam the City 
Hotel— Its ladies' dining-room— Dancing — John 
Charruaud,dancing-master-Public balls and concerts 
held in the dining-room— Henry Russell the English 
balladist— Captain Marryat writes a verse for Russell 
—Willard and Jennings— Niblo opens a new place of 
entertainment— WiUard's troublesome acceptance of 
an invitation— His wonderful memory for names- 
Jennings, the disciplinarian— Partnership conferences 
—Private residences— Stores— Anthony J. Bleecker 
and Company— Real-estate brokers and speculators— 
The lawyer's office— Insurance companies—" High 
Constable" Hays-" Dickey" Riker, the Recorder- 
" Leather-head " watchmen— Wall Street— Colonel 
James Watson Webb— His duel with Marshall- 
Banks— Gold-headed canes— Prime, Ward, and King, 
Brown Bros —Exchange offices— Wild-cat money- 
Securities— Inflated currency— Reckless gambling- 
Gold and the paper dollar— A scene in the Stock 
Exchange — The purchase of "100 Erie"— War 



Contents. vii 

rumors — Stock fluctuates and is sold — Lotteries — 
Mayor Clark ...... 56-92 

CHAPTER IV. 

The old Tontine Society — Cheap residences — The Wall 
Street Presbyterian Church — The first Express Com- 
panies — Their extraordinary success — John Hoey — 
The fashionable tailors — The old barbers — The orig- 
inal Grace Church — Doctor Wainwright — Miss Gil- 
lingham — Famous choir singers — The old post-office 
— The Middle Dutch Church — Three great divines — 
Doctors Brownlee, Knox, and De Witt — The elders 
and deacons — Several rules for youngsters — Choris- 
ter Earl and his tuning-fork — Dr. Samuel H. Cox — 
Grant Thorburn — The " Mulberry Mania" 93-119 

CHAPTER V. 

" Eating-Houses" — Fulton Market — Thompson's — Clark 
and Brown's " English Chop-House " — St. George 
Cricket Club — The Auction Hotel — United States 
Hotel — Marine Telegraph — Downing's a political 
rendezvous — Harlem Railroad and the " great tun- 
nel " — Commodore Vanderbilt — George Law — Jacob 
Barker — Manhattan Company tea water — Oyster 
Houses — Windust — His theatrical patrons and col- 
lection of mementos — The elder Booth — Kean — 
Cooper — Tyrone Power — Manager Mitchell — Harry 
Placide — Delmonico's start — Delmonico's at Four- 
teenth Street — The Man of the World — Guerin — 
Palmo introduces Italian Opera and loses his for- 
tune 120-152 



viii Contents. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The promenade — Its limits — How the young men adorned 
themselves — The attire of young women — The bonnet 
of the day — The conventional bride and groom a 
study in black and white — Contoit's garden enter- 
tainment at small cost — Trade drives residents from 
Broadway — Door-plates of distinguished citizens — A 
mistaken purchase of land — Columbia College — New 
York Hospital — John Anderson's cigar shop and 
Mary Rogers — St. John's Park — Contiguous residents 
— Samuel H. Cox, D.D. — His powerful eloquence 
— Again on Broadway — Its "characters" — The 
mad poet — The Ginger-Bread Man — The Lime-Kiln 
Man — His strange death — Dandy Cox and his turn- 
out 153-173 

CHAPTER VII. 

The first omnibuses — Their distinguished names — Their 
several routes — Rivalries and races — Brower's stables 
— Sol Kipp of Kipp and Brown — His benevolence 
and popularity in Greenwich village — He fights con- 
struction of Eighth Avenue Railroad and dies poor — 
The Broadway House the Whig headquarters — Its 
habitues — Selection of local candidates — The Tyler 
Campaign, 1840 — General Harrison — Martin Van 
Buren, the " Kinderhook Magician " — The Campaign 
of '44 — " Harry of the West " — Frelinghuysen re- 
sponds to the election of Clay — Defeat announced 
next morning — Vauxhall Garden — Its mystic bowers 
— Barnum and the manufactured mermaid — The Astor 
Place Riot — American and Peale's Museums — Their 



Contents. ix 

collection of horrors — Wax figures — Their lecture 
rooms — Spiritualism — Yankee Hill — Daddy Rice — 
Barnum absorbs the American and Peale's and estab- 
lishes the " high moral drama " . . . 174-192 



CHAPTER Vni. 

Retirement from business — Very few capitalists — Social 
distinctions not based upon pecuniary standard — 
Dignity of age and the respect it commanded — Ven- 
eration for home — The house closes at ten — Parties 
— Receptions — The bridal feast — Toilets of bride and 
bridesmaids — Grandmother in brocade — Taking tea — 
Spending the evening — Deliberation in purchases — 
The two cashmere shawls — True woman in appropriate 
costume — Modest social gatherings — Formal dinner 
parties exceptional — Bon Vivants — Thanksgiving-Day 
dinner — Knickerbocker Puritanism — The advent of 
the Teuton — The dance — The song — Lager beer — 
Tammany Hall — Apollo saloon — Annual balls — The 
Volunteer Firemen and their companies — Names of 
the prominent foremen — The Bowery boy and girl 
described and how they disported themselves at a 
ball at Tammany Hall — A Broadway swell invades 
the festive scene and retreats under fire, somewhat 
damaged — The Apollo ball-room — Young America 
covertly enjoys an evening with the grisettes of New 
York — The attempt to inaugurate monthly balls at 
the City Hotel defeated by the dowagers and the 
ministers — Young America driven to " Apollo " by 
unyielding formality .... 193-230 



X Contents. 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Park Theatre described— The pit the jury box — 
Mr. and Mrs. Wood from England provoke a local 
international cataclysm — Manager Simpson alarmed 
— Mrs. Wood saves the day and captures the audience 
— The Park Theatre orchestra — The modest con- 
ductor — Mr. Drum and his odd ways — English Opera 
— Mrs. Austin — Harry Placide — William F. Brough — 
Galaxy of stars — Mrs. Wheatley — Mrs. Vernon — 
Misses Emma Wheatley and Clara Fisher — The old 
time Ballet — Mrs. Gurner — Mrs. Barry — Miss Char- 
lotte Cushman's rise and progress — Miss Wheatley's 
marriage with Mr. Janies Mason — Her farewell per- 
formance at which Junius Brutus Booth makes a 
characteristic speech — Mrs. Mason's misfortune — Her 
return to the stage — Her death — Harry Placide's art — 
Tyrone Power — Charles Kean's first appearance at 
the Park — His performance of " Richard IH." — The 
elder Booth in the audience — Audibly commends 
young Kean 231-265 

CHAPTER X. 

Peter Richings — His singular versatility as an actor — 
John Fisher and John Povey in low comedy — Will- 
iam Wheatley — Charles K. and John Mason arrive 
with Charles Kemble and Fanny Kemble — Saturday 
night at the Park devoted to experimental acting — 
An embryo " Romeo's " experience — The stage and 
scenery of the Park contrasted with more modern 
appointments — Old New Yorkers who patronized 
the Park — Edwin Booth at his new theatre — The 



Contents. xi 

" Hamlet " of Charles Kean and Edwin Booth con- 
trasted — How the stage moon at the Old Park was 
eclipsed — Thomas S. Hamblin — The Bowery Theatre 
— The arena of Edwin Forrest's first triumphs — John 
R. Scott — The pit of the Bowery Theatre and its 
masters — Josephine Clifton, the tragedy queen — Mrs. 
Shaw, the excellent actress — The combat between 
*' Richard " and " Richmond " . . . 266-289 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Franklin Theatre — " Wake me up when Kirby dies " 
— National Theatre, Church and Leonard Streets — 
Chanfrau as " Mose " — James W. Wallack — Browne — 
Blake — Nickerson — Popular operatic airs — The Van- 
denhoff family — The Olympic — Mitchell, the actor- 
manager — Burlesque — Mitchell as Fanny Ellsler — 
Mary Taylor — " Our Mary " demands increase of 
salary — Mitchell refuses, but the pit demands Miss 
Taylor's reinstatement — Mitchell yields — Niblo's Gar- 
den — Mrs. Niblo the business manager — The Garden 
becomes a Theatre — The Lafayette and Richmond 
Hill Theatres — Charles W. Sandford's brief career as 
a manager — The Broadway Tabernacle, a shrine of 
fanaticism — Jenny Lind .... 290-312 

CHAPTER Xn. 

Equipages few and well known — John Hunter of Hun- 
ter's Island — " Dandy " Marx, the exquisite — Dr. 
Valentine Mott — Mayor Philip Hone — A carriage not 
a necessity — Hackney coaches — Light (?) wagons — 
Commodore Vanderbilt — Harlem an expanse of fields 



xii Contents. 

— Madison Square surrounded by brick walls — Land 
speculators — Charles Henry Hall and his domain — 
Lovers of the horse — Third Avenue the trotting road 
— Trotters compared — Cato's road house and its fre- 
quenters — Five cigars for one shilling — Dollars and 
population increase in number — Cato's Lane — York- 
ville and Harlem 'buses — '' Ion," the road horse — 
Hazard House — Horses trotting — The Red House 
speedway — Flora Temple, queen of the trotting turf — 
Lady Suffolk — Lew Rogers — " Dandy " Marx and his 
horses Z'^Z-ZZl 



CHAPTER XHL 

An afternoon on the Road — The Red House and its 
adornments, Lewis Rogers its proprietor — Edmund 
Jones — " Dandy " Marx — William Harrington, leader 
of the Bowery Boys — Sam Segue, the artistic horse 
dealer — " Mr." Rowan, the church-going horse trader 
— William T. Porter, the true sportsman and culti- 
vated gentleman — Professional drivers and trainers 
— Hiram Woodruff — Road racing — Ned Luff, the 
jolly, free-hearted host — Bradshaw's hotel at 125th 
street and 3d Avenue — George W. Thompson, the 
famous ball player — The old clock — William Vyse — 
— " Gentleman " George L. Pride ; the mystery con- 
cerning him — Gilley Browne — Bruce Hunter — Burn- 
ham's Mansion House and its attractions — Corporal 
Thompson's hostelry, where the Fifth Avenue Hotel 
now stands — Its distinguished frequenters — Adieu to 
the Bloomingdale Road — Transformation in equi- 
pages 334-366 



Contents. 
CHAPTER XIV 



xiu 



Modern New York — Grandmother's lecture — The Knick- 
erbocker Home ...... 367-371 

Index 373-3^6 




ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Portrait of Abram C. Dayton . . Frontispiece 
From an oil portrait by Nims, 1838 

The Battery in 1830 32 

From a drawing by C. Burton 

City Hotel, Trinity and Grace Churches, 
Broadway, in 183 i ..... 

From a drawing by A. Dick 



South Street, near Dover Street, 1831 

From a drawing by A. J. Davis 

Banks in Wall Street 

From a drawing by C. Burton, in 1830 

Middle Dutch Church and Sugar-House, 

ABOUT 1830 ...... 

Portrait of Grant Thorburn — y£t. 73 . 
Junius Brutus Booth .... 

Contoit's Garden, 1830 .... 
Broadway and Grand Street in 1840 . 
Tammany Hall in 1830 .... 



44 
70 
96 

106 

118 
138 
160 
180 
214 



XVI 



Illustrations. 



EuTERPEAN Hall, Broadway, known as the 

Apollo Rooms, 1830 

The Park Theatre, Park Row, 1831 
Portrait of Mrs. Vernon . . . • 

Portrait of Mrs. Mason (Emma Wheatley) . 
Portrait of Henry Placide . . . • 
Portrait of William Mitchell 
NiBLo's Garden, about 1831 . • • • 

From an old wood-cut pnnt 

Cato's House, 1835 ...••• 

Burnham's Mansion-house, Bloomingdale 

Road, about 1835 . . • • • 



226 

232 
248 
252 
260 
298 
304 

324 

362 




INTRODUCTION. 



BY RICHARD B. KIMBALL, 

AUTHOR OF "ST. LEGER." 

NO city of the United States challenges 
such romantic interest in its earlier life 
as the City of New York. The towns of New 
England, of the Middle States, and of the 
South were settled mainly by the English, 
who brought with them the, to us, common- 
place traits and characteristics of the localities 
from which they came and in which there was 
little to inspire romance. The conditions were 
essentially different with regard to the settle- 
ment of New York. Hendrik Hudson landed 
on Manhattan Island in 1609. ^^ took 
possession in the name of the Dutch govern- 
ment, and sailed up the river which to-day bears 
his name as far as what is now the city of 
Hudson. His report led to the rapid coloniza- 



xviii Introduction. 

tion of the new territory. The location for the 
town to be called New Amsterdam was un- 
rivalled. It was not an indigent class which 
came here to locate, nor a class which left their 
homes for greater relictions tolerance. The 
town was built up by thrifty Hollanders, who 
brought with them the quaint manners and 
habits of preceding generations, and these were 
handed down by the people of New Amster- 
dam from father to son. The Dutch extended 
their settlements along the Hudson to Albany 
and up the Mohawk River, where to this day in 
some families the langruaije of Holland is still 
familiar. Large manor estates were secured, 
and it is but a few years since the title of Pa- 
troon fell into disuse. In 1647 Peter Stuyve- 
sant was appointed Governor. His " reign " 
was beneficent and prosperous. Those were 
palmy days for the Dutch in New Amsterdam 
during the years in which that doughty gov- 
ernor had sway. There was no change in the 
simple habits of the people or in their hon- 
est dealings with their neighbors. Stuyvesant 
was governor seventeen years, when in 1664 
the town was captured by the English and its 
name changed to New York. The Dutch were 
restive under the new rule, and after the lapse 



Introduction. xix 

of nine years the place was recaptured by 
Holland and called New Orange, after the fa- 
mous Prince of Orange. The new occupation 
lasted but a year. By a treaty with the States 
General it was restored to England and re- 
named New York. The Hollanders clung to 
their ancient customs and habits, and many 
of them were grafted upon the English ways 
and methods. The tide of immigration which 
swept into New York by degrees changed the 
strong Dutch element to an English atmos- 
phere, but it was quite a hundred years before 
it faded away under the influence of the 
immense increase of population making a me- 
tropolis of New York with the habits of 
cosmopolitan life. 

It would seem that no more interesting vol- 
ume could be written than one describing 
the last days of Knickerbocker life in New 
York. Such a volume was before his decease 
prepared by Mr. Abram C. Dayton, of this city, 
a gentleman of great culture and refinement. 
Mr. Dayton was of an ancient and honorable 
lineage. His father, Charles Willoughby Day- 
ton, was an opulent merchant of this city, who 
came to New York shortly after the beginning 
of the present century and who was identified 



XX Introduction. 

with its growth and prosperity. Mr. Dayton, 
the author of this work, was born here in 
1818. He was an only son and had all the 
accomplishments that education, travel, and 
wealth could give. He was sent abroad to 
complete his studies. After finishing his course 
at the Dresden "gymnasium," which is similar 
to our " college," he completed a term of lec- 
tures at Heidelbere and then went on an ex- 
tended European tour. While in Holland he 
was struck with the similarity between many of 
the customs of his native city and those of the 
Dutch towns, an impression greatly strength- 
ened on coming back to America. 

Some time after his return home Mr. Dayton 
married Miss Maria A. Tomlinson, a young 
lady highly intellectual and accomplished, the 
daughter of an eminent physician of New 
York, Dr. David Tomlinson. 

When Mr. Dayton came from Europe he 
was astonished to find how rapidly the old cus- 
toms and traditions which were fresh in his 
memory from childhood were fading away into 
extinction. He felt that some effort should be 
made to picture the last days of Knickerbocker 
life here during his declining years, and pre- 
pared the book now published. He died 



Introduction. xxi 

August, 1877, ^'^ his 60th year. His wife and 
four children survive him. Mr, Dayton was 
a man of most engaging manners, charming 
in conversation which his travels and associa- 
tions made especially interesting. He was 
remarkably fine looking, very courteous in his 
demeanor and elegant in his manners, after the 
style of the leading young men of his class. 
His fine literary tastes, his quick appreciation, 
and his aptitude in composition fitted him for 
the work he undertook and so happily finished. 
The publication of this volume has been car- 
ried out by his eldest son, the Hon. Charles 
W. Dayton, an eminent member of the New 
York bar and prominent in political affairs. 
The writer of this brief notice thus associates 
his own name with that of a dear and life-long 
friend. 



NOTE TO THE ILLUSTRATED 
EDITION. 



THE growth, the advantages, and the de- 
velopment of the City of New York are 
without parallel in the annals of a self-govern- 
ing people, and another generation will prob- 
ably find it second to no city in the world. 

Civic pride is becoming a motive force 
among its increasing and cosmopolitan popu- 
lation, a large majority of whom are constantly 
striving towards its more perfect administra- 
tion and adornment. 

The descendants of the earlier settlers are 
fond of traversing its older streets, of bringing 
to mind some of its old-time characteristics, 
and of drawing comparisons between the staid 
methods and manners of their ancestors and 
the methods and manners of Greater New 
York. 



xxiv Note to the Illustrated Edition. 

Twenty-five years ago, my father, doubtless, 
indulged in similar reflections. The last few 
years of his life were spent in retirement. 
His impaired health found relaxation in liter- 
ary pursuits, and many will remember how 
inexhaustible was the fund of anecdote and 
pleasant humor, with which he was wont to 
entertain the household circle, concerning 
" New York forty years ago." This theme 
found expression in the sketches written in 1871 
and printed in 1880. He was himself witness 
to the scenes described and contemporary with 
the events detailed. Those who knew him 
and whose eyes may meet these pages, will re- 
call the delightful manner, the amiable, spark- 
ling flow of conversation, the graceful modesty, 
the unreserved honesty, which charmed, at- 
tracted, and won all who came within his en- 
vironment. 

" A lovelier gentleman, 
Framed in the prodigality of nature, 

The spacious world cannot again afford." 

The typographical form of the original issue 
did not do justice to the literary quality or the 
historic value of the work, and the edition was 



Note to the Illustrated Edition. xxv 

practically limited to private circulation among 
the friends of the author. 

To Mr. Douglas Taylor of this city, I am 
under obligations for a number of the designs 
utilized for the illustrations. 

The volume is now presented to the public 
in the belief that it will make a place for 
itself in the literature of our city, and will aid 
to preserve pleasing and picturesque memories 
of an interesting transition period in the his- 
tory of New York. 

Charles W. Dayton. 

New York, December, i8g6. 




AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

IF it be an admitted fact that " a man is known 
by the company he keeps," it cannot be a 
wrong proposition, that a state of society can 
best be described and understood by a " bird's- 
eye view " of the habits, customs, occupations, 
and amusements which ruled in every-day life 
at that particular epoch. In the endeavor to 
present these peculiarities, it matters little if 
occasional discrepancies or even exaggerations 
should creep into details which are honestly 
intended to be truthful and, in the main, exact. 
Time, despite the most conscientious resolves, 
will light up pleasurable reminiscences of the 
past with an enhanced glow ; it also will throw 
a denser shadow over recollections of those 
dark spots met with even in the sunny stage of 
childhood. Due allowance should always be 
made for the irresistible influence of prejudice : 



xxviii Author s Preface. 

once engendered it never slumbers ; it grows 
with our growth, strengthens with our strength, 
and, as if it had become a dominant part of our 
being, rules supreme over man's warring pow- 
ers, when age weakens reason. The impres- 
sions made by early associations are indelibly 
stamped — 

" for lives there one 
Whose infant breath was drawn, or boyhood's days 
Of happiness were passed beneath that sun. 

That in his manhood's prime can calmly gaze 
Upon that bay, or on that mountain stand, 
Nor feel the prouder of his native land ? " 

The landmarks of the Knickerbocker era are 
one by one disappearing, and very soon all will 
be swept from the face of Manhattan Island ; 
and scarcely a vestige will remain to bring to 
mind the staid customs and primitive mode of 
life which ruled in New York only forty years 
ago. 

Forty years ago New York was by compari- 
son a village ; one cargo of the mammoth 
Great Eastern would have stocked its ware- 
houses with luxuries; the passengers of one 
train of cars from the far West would have 
overflowed its houses of entertainment ; its 



Author's Preface. xxlx 

limited places of amusement were kept alive, 
but the managers did not amass wealth ; its 
quiet streets offered little inducement for dis- 
play, but at the same time they afforded limited 
scope for detective skill ; its aggregate munici- 
pal outlay would scarcely be considered an ob- 
ject by a modern politician. Home with its 
legitimate influences ruled supreme, and to the 
unintroduced traveller from the Old World our 
city offered but few attractions. It was un- 
hesitatingly pronounced dull by the English 
sporting gentleman, " horrible " by the Parisian 
who had revelled in the ever-changing pleasures 
of the gay Capital. 

After New York emerged from the financial 
crash of 1837, occasioned primarily by the dis- 
astrous conflagration of 1835, but augmented 
by the explosion of a land speculation which 
would be unheeded now, it sprang as if by 
magic into metropolitan proportions. It be- 
came the moneyed centre of the continent ; its 
banks were the depositories of the almost worth- 
less tokens with which the country was flooded 
during the suspension of specie payments. 
This sudden accumulation of doubtful securi- 
ties encouraged increased individual expendi- 
ture ; rents advanced, luxuries were introduced 



XXX Author s Preface. 

by foreign capitalists, and the proceeds invested 
in the rapidly appreciating lands lying ad- 
jacent to the city limits. The now crowning 
''mortgage^' to which the prudent Knicker- 
bocker only had recourse in the last extremity, 
was not considered a disgraceful fixture on the 
family mansion, and pretentious dwellings were 
erected on the surroundings of Washington 
Parade Ground. Albion, St. Marks, Lafayette, 
Waverley, Washington, and other grand places 
were inaugurated through the instrumentality 
of " wz*/^^^^" tenders, and grandfather's simple 
Knickerbocker home was abandoned for more 
sumptuous residences in fashionable quarters. 
This new order of things necessitated new 
appliances of every sort, and the regime of the 
past was banished as if by a wave of the " en- 
chanter's magic wand." History scarcely 
presents the parallel of this sudden, marked 
transition from Dutch Gotham, with its noise- 
less, steady routine, to metropolitan New York, 
with its bustling, flighty excitement. 

Abram C. Dayton. 
New York, December, 1S71. 



LAST DAYS OF KNICKERBOCKER 
LIFE IN NEW YORK. 



LAST DAYS OF 

KNICKERBOCKER LIFE 

IN NEW YORK. 



CHAPTER I. 

The New York of 1830 — The city's extreme limit — 
How large fortunes came from the old farms — Sun- 
day in those times — The old Knickerbocker Home 
— Hospitable habits — Early hours — Knickerbocker 
drinks— Dutch Reformed Church — The sermon — 
The walk home — Fashions in woman's dress — Mrs. 
Croesus — Madame Nouveau-Riche — Woman's modesty 
and charm — Knickerbocker hospitality — Grand- 
mother's pantry — Grandmother's parlor — The thin- 
legged piano — Grandfather's toddy — Change from 
simplicity to display. 

THE New York of 1830 was very unlike 
the New York of to-day. Its unprece- 
dented change, or rather growth, was un- 
heeded, and is yet not fully realized by very 



2 Last Days of 

many of that class, who, though native born, 
have floated along without noting passing 
events, contenting themselves with the enjoy- 
ment of the rich fruits derived from their 
ancestral farms. Knickerbocker frugality was a 
blessing to such of the present generation as can 
trace their genealogy on Manhattan Island for 
a century, while those whose titles date back 
only fifty years, possess many substantial rea- 
sons to be thankful. They have not toiled, 
neither have they spun ; yet while they have 
slumbered in idle comfort, their inherited acres 
have changed to city lots ; and city lots, no 
matter how situated, represent dollars and 
produce income. 

In 1830 Prince Street was on the very verge 
of civilization. Niblo's Garden was a garden 
in very truth, a rural spot ; and it was probably 
leased at a rental which would now be refused 
for the humblest plot on the Island, though 
Niblo's was situated on the only thoroughfare, 
except the Bowery, which the city of Gotham 
could boast. Thousands of the occupants of 
brown stone mansions which grace our leading 
avenues are, as is well known, not "to the 
manor born." They came from the North, 
South, East, and West, when the spirit of 



Knickerbocke}' Life. 3 

speculation settled upon the heretofore sleep- 
ing Dutch city. As a rule they brought little 
with them save the spirit of enterprise, an in- 
domitable will, and a firm determination to win 
both name and fortune. The wiry, energetic 
sons of New Hampshire, Maine, and Vermont 
were among the first to step to the front in the 
new El Dorado, and the footprints of their 
industrious toil are to-day plainly discernible 
on Manhattan Island. Previous to the ad- 
vent of this adventurous horde, Gotham under 
its primitive rule was satisfied to leave 
well enough alone ; and it is through that 
Gotham the writer purposes to ramble with his 
readers, to narrate nothing but facts, to de- 
scribe person, custom and locality as they ex- 
isted in his youth. This ramble will not prove 
dry or uninstructive, as the details appear, on 
our tramp from the old Battery. The marvel- 
lous progress which a few short years have 
witnessed cannot fail to excite both wonder 
and interest as the marked changes are one by 
one noted. 

The vast majority of the citizens of New 
York now consider Sunday as a day set apart 
for pleasure and recreation, and in that respect 
our city is not very far behind the gayest 



4 Last Days of 

capitals of the old world. It is true there still 
lingers a slight sprinkling of the old leaven of 
sti'zct observa7tce, which essays to make itself 
seen, felt, understood, and bravely tries to do 
battle for the " aiicien regime " against the 
marked and powerful encroachments of un- 
checked revelry. It is still decreed by Fashion 
that to attend church is respectable, but then 
the imperious dame designates where and how 
her votaries shall figure in the sanctuary. 
Matins, however, are the mode ; afternoon 
services in the churches as a rule are unattend- 
ed, and the officiating clergymen could almost 
with impunity repeat their morning discourses, 
for empty pews are not supposed to be critical 
hearers. The popular theory, modern to us, 
that Sunday was intended as a day especially 
set apart for out-door exercise for the toiling 
artisan and his housed family, has been appro- 
priated by the leaders of society, as is fully 
demonstrated by the fact that on no afternoon 
of the week is the Central Park or the Drive 
more crowded with equipages or more gorgeous 
in display of toilets and appointments. Our 
theatres as yet have not opened their doors on 
Sunday night ; still the initiative step has been 
taken in that direction. Concert halls and 



Knickerbocker Life. 5 

gardens are in full blast during the Summer 
months, where orchestras discourse choice 
selections of music, styled, for appearance, 
sacred melodies, some of which, to the unpro- 
fessional hearer, sound amazingly as if stolen 
from La Grande Duchesse, or Le Nozze. 
In this rapid age some sacred stanzas may 
have been composed for special adaptation to 
the popular " Music Lesson," or Le Sabre de 
Mon Pere. They must have been, or such a 
thoroughly educated musician as Theodore 
Thomas would not have directed his unrivalled 
orchestra to intone them on Sunday night for 
the edification of his enrapt audience. 

What a contrast presents itself between the 
short rollicking Sunday of to-day with its mu- 
sic and dance ; its brilliantly lighted saloons 
filled with an eager crowd of pleasure-seekers ; 
its endless train of promenaders ; its open shops 
in the full tide of successful traffic, and the 
solemn, long Knickerbocker Sabbath, when 
the fourth commandment was in full force. 
The old time Knickerbocker Sabbath was in 
very truth a day especially set apart for wor- 
ship. The laws of society so decreed, and 
public opinion was a stern master then ; so woe 
betide the man, woman, or child who dared 



6 Last Days of 

to disobey or disregard its stringent rules. 
From early dawn all secular affairs were re- 
ligiously avoided ; the family meals were but 
cold collations of Saturday baked meats — it 
was decreed that man servant and maid ser- 
vant should rest. 

No sound save the tolling of the church-bell 
broke the awful stillness. At stated hours, 
three times during the day, at ten o'clock, at 
three o'clock, and at seven o'clock, stereotype 
processions of solemn men and women, accom- 
panied by subdued, silent children even of the 
most tender age slowly wended their way to 
church, as if they were assisting at the funeral 
of a dear departed friend. A bare cold nod of 
recognition was all that was vouchsafed to the 
most intimate passing acquaintance. The coy 
maiden looked as demure as her spectacled 
grandmother who led her protectingly by the 
hand ; the youth clad in best Sunday round- 
about, appeared as stolid as the well-fed 
museum anaconda, for the boy had been 
crammed that morning with catechism ; pater 
and mater familias bore upon their counte- 
nances the consciousness of their awful respon- 
sibility ; while Betty, the help, arrayed in her 
best calico, cleanest pinafore, and brightest 



Knickerbocker Life. 7 

bandanna turban, trudged along in the rear 
of the family circle as an evidence that the 
family was doing its whole duty. When the 
bell ceased tolling and the service was about 
to commence, heavy iron chains were drawn 
tightly across the streets adjacent to the differ- 
ent places of worship, that no possible noise 
might distract the congregation from serious 
meditations. 

This precaution seemed in a great measure 
to be superfluous, for the doctor's gig on its 
errand of mercy, or the carriage of some aged 
Christian too infirm to walk were the only 
admitted departures, as beasts were also in- 
cluded in the Sunday code. Now and then 
a sly sinner or two would harness up for a 
drive on the road, and enjoy a little sweet, 
unlawful froHc ; but such were far too cunning 
to select the thoroughfare. They would take 
some unfrequented road, certain that if de- 
tected in their sinful departure, in addition to 
the inevitable severe reprimand for their un- 
godly practices, they would, during an indefi- 
nite period, be the prominent subjects of 
intercession at evening prayers. 

But to the service. It was no light affair 
with any denomination ; at the Dutch Re- 



8 Last Days of 

formed Church it was, to say the least, lugu- 
brious and protracted. The long spun out 
extemporary prayers doubtless were magni- 
ficent expositions of unadulterated faith to 
the full grown believer, but to the youthful 
listener they might as well have been uttered 
in Sanscrit, the only intelligible portions being 
"benighted heathen," "the lake which burns 
with fire and brimstone," " whited sepulchres," 
and other kindred expressions which are uttered 
in truthfulness, that "we are not as other men 
are." The singing was unquestionably praise : 
it certainly was not music. There was no in- 
strumental accompaniment to prescribe either 
tune or modulation, so that free scope was both 
given and taken by the human voice divine, 
and the brother or sister who shrieked the 
loudest and dwelt the longest was considered 
the furthest advanced on the heavenly way. 

The sermon was of course the crowning feat- 
ure. The dominies of the time were no nig- 
gards in their appropriation of Holy Writ, but 
took whole chapters, and long ones at that, for 
their texts. This prudent mode of procedure 
gave them abundant scope for their denuncia- 
tions of all classes and conditions of men, who 
by reason of education had imbibed different 



Knickerbocker Life. 9 

views of the paramount duties of poor, weak, 
erring humanity. As there was no hour-glass 
on the pulpit or warning clock displayed in the 
bleak square edifice, the officiating dominie, 
merely for form's sake, consulted his ponder- 
ous gold " bull's eye," and placed it out at arm's 
reach before beginning his discourse, but the 
worthy, earnest fisher after souls with all his 
precautions as to time, was only restrained in 
his zealous labor of love by utter physical ex- 
haustion. 

Men were strong, then ; ministers had not 
become affected with the bronchial disorders 
so prevalent in the pulpit in these latter days ; 
their sermons were voluminous, loud, ponder- 
ous, nay, even muscular — they clinched each 
telling point with a heavy right-hand blow on 
the sacred volume before them, as if resolved 
to fix it there for all coming generations. After 
the pewter plate had gone its accustomed round, 
and garnered in its pennies — a plateful of 
those good-sized tokens was a mighty affair — 
another eight stanza hymn, closing with the 
doxology, was vehemently shouted, when 
followed the concluding benediction, which 
to-day would be considered a prayer of reason- 
able duration. But it was always a blessing 



lo Last Days of 

to us youngsters, for during its delivery we 
were permitted to stand, while during the 
other portions of the exercises custom required 
us to sit bolt upright, our eyes fixed upon the 
pulpit with no outward show of weariness. 

On our sober walk home, the entertainment 
was limited to listening to the family comments 
on the doctor's discourse. Grandmother said 
it was full of "refreshing consolations," father 
spoke of its "vital power," mother thought 
the doctor had never been "happier," while 
Betty and we children did not express any 
opinion ; not merely because we were not 
asked, but because we were so delighted when 
the massive Bible was shut with a slam, which 
we knew hid the doctor's notes from view, and 
denoted a speedy termination of the sermon. 
The prominent points of the morning lesson 
were again set before us in the lengthened 
grace, ere we were permitted to attack the cold 
collation and apple pie, which Betty had pre- 
pared the day before, merely as a sustainer of 
nature, that we mi^ht be fortified in the inner 
man to endure the afternoon and evening 
services, which were nearly equal in extent 
and power to the grand trial of the morning. 

The Knickerbocker Sabbath has lived out 



Knickerbocker Life. 1 1 

its generation, and doubtless accomplished the 
ends for which it was instituted. It was a day 
of rest for all save the dominie and his youth- 
ful disciples. To the former, its arduous 
duties must have proved fearfully wearing, 
even though a man of iron constitution unim- 
paired by luxurious living. To the latter, the 
seventh day was dreaded on account of its 
wearisome, unnatural restraints. To them it 
was a silent, cheerless, smileless day, from the 
morning hour of its dawn until the little suf- 
ferers gladly sought their pillows, enlivened 
with the thought that six long days of sinful 
frolic with ball, marble, and kite must intervene 
before they should again be called upon to per- 
form monastic penance. 

The Knickerbocker life was in perfect keep- 
ing with its Sabbath — steady, determined, con- 
ventional industry was its prime characteristic 
element, assured competency its aim, quiet 
contentment its goal. No doubtful, speculative 
projects were entertained ; " Chevaliers (('In- 
dustrie,'' few and far between, were looked 
upon with distrust. Moderate in tastes and 
studiously frugal in their expenditure of the 
dollars amassed by honest toil, our ancestors 
had but few rivalries to disturb their equanim- 



1 2 Last Days of 

ity, and these were not of the costly kind which 
to-day call for such fearful twistings and turn- 
ings on the part of aspiring New Yorkers, to 
effect a balance between the means and the 
ends. 

Fashion ruled, as she ever has since Mother 
Eve glanced at the reflection of her beauty as 
it was mirrored by the placid waters of Eden, 
but the usually exacting mistress seemed to 
assimilate herself to the moderate views of the 
simple men and women among whom her lot 
was temporarily cast. Her demands for changes 
and variety were very limited and her exact- 
ness confined to decorous, substantial neatness. 
Though the prescribed style of attire would 
be considered a marvel of hideousness to-day, 
still all dressed as if in uniform, from head to 
foot ; so, to have laughed at the custom of 
your neighbor, would virtually be tantamount 
to jeering at your own, a thing people are not 
apt to do. The toilets of the ladies were cer- 
tainly far from being graceful ; little calculated 
to enhance the charm of face or figure, less 
even than the quaint girls of the shaker Quak- 
eresses of Lebanon ; besides, the flat, broad, 
heelless buskin, or the prunella slipper were 
very unattractive aflairs when viewed in con- 



Knickerbocker Life. 13 

trast with the natty walking boot and its 
tapering heel, now so bewitchingly displayed 
on our promenades. But then we knew no 
other mode, and were compelled to be satisfied 
with the means within reach to gratify our cir- 
cumscribed desires for display. 

In this at least our progenitors were happier 
than their successors ; that they were not ren- 
dered supremely wretched by insatiate long- 
ings, now so painfully apparent in cosmopolitan 
New York ; for respectable comfort, attained 
by patient striving, fully satisfied their highest 
aspirations. Whether their limited views of 
the pleasure and happiness which this life 
should afford, were correct, might be a difficult 
question to argue with those of our day, whose 
lives have been and are one continuous round 
of giddy excitement, who look upon labor, in 
any form, as degrading ; who have adopted 
as their motto, Dum vivimus, vivmnus and who 
are now reaping the abundant harvest which 
their prudent ancestors so carefully planted, 
and are scattering it broadcast in wasteful 
extravagance and riotous living. 

It is becoming, nay, it is a duty one owes to 
one's self and to the society in which our lot 
is cast, to live up to the times, to conform in 



14 Last Days of 

moderation to usages and customs ; in fine so 
to demean ourselves as to appear before our 
fellows properly in dress and appointments. 
Here, we claim, ends our public obligation to 
the outside world ; and we have long marvelled 
that the powerful press of New York has been 
so studiously silent on the subject of this 
wicked extravagance — this crime of fashion 
which now pervades all classes, absorbing the 
energy and sapping the very vitals of the 



coming generation 



We claim as a right and duty to put in an 
appearance in vindication of a better taste 
and more modest expenditure. It may hap- 
pen that in so doing we invade the established 
monarchy of Fashion, and thereby give seri- 
ous offence to some high priests and priest- 
esses who worship at her shrine ; but we 
profess to be too well versed in the true and 
beautiful to hesitate in what we conceive to be 
a manly duty. So we take our place in the 
lists, resolved to splinter a lance and war ' 
against this crying error of judgment vv^hich is 
fast running into licentiousness. Through the 
great thoroughfares of our city, fashion rolls 
along in one steady stream of wealth and 
witchery, of waste and want. Her votaries 



Knicke7'bocker Life. 15 

saunter past, or recline In regal equipages 
wrapped in India shawls, for the possession 
of which the East India Company, in the days 
of Warren Hastings, would have waged war 
against a regiment of native princes. 

We will not say ** up town " ; but, speaking 
generally, will assert the fact, that with masses, 
expense is outrunning income, and that income 
is souofht after in channels which too often have 
their source in fraud, and find their issue 
where crime is wedded to punishment, and 
punishment to perpetual infamy. In and out 
of the great silken and dry goods warehouses, 
in and out of the tempting doorways of the 
golconda jewelry establishments, where dia- 
monds sparkle with more temptation in their 
pendent glory than did the apple in the Gar- 
den of Paradise ; crowds pass in and out, with 
the purpose of determined rivalry in the petty 
spirit to outvie one the other in the display of 
bracelets, of gorgeous pins, cameos of fabulous 
price, bills of destructive items. 

How exquisite is woman, appropriately, mod- 
estly attired ; how radiant are her eyes when 
there is no imperial bauble to flash a rival 
splendor. A rosebud half hidden on the veiled 
bosom, a stray curl, dancing on a chaste brow ; 



1 6 Last Days of 

a dainty shawl, whose soft colors do not blush 
at their own price ; a modest robe, whose mys- 
terious undulations teach us to look upon the 
wearer as a being of perfected taste and digni- 
fied conduct, and challenge the honest admira- 
tion of every true-minded gentleman. How our 
hearts yearn towards her as we feel that she is 
a woman, not a doll ; a wife, not a flirt ; a maid, 
not a decked temptation ; a wife who would 
guard her husband's credit " on change " as 
she would his honor at home ; a maid whose 
whole deportment singles her as the fit com- 
panion for life of a conscientious, upright man ; 
a companion, without a wish for liveries, with 
no sigh for foreign dances, of corrupting in- 
toxication in salons where the glitter illumes 
her father's haggard face, as he reflects that 
on the morrow when he reaches his place of 
toil the expense of all this reckless display will 
be handed him in a bill the footing of which 
will shake his credit and perhaps cast him on 
the world a ruined man. 

We would not disturb, but would rather en- 
courage the social enjoyments of this great 
city. We would not deprive those who enjoy 
them of the many evening gatherings, the 
plenteous spread of republican hospitality, the 



Knickerbocker Life. 1 7 

beauty and perfume of home-raised flowers or 
home-bred loveliness ; but we would now and 
forever enter a strong protest against this 
pride of dress, this useless extravagance, this 
rage for corrupt expenditure. 

Is there any heartfelt satisfaction or sin- 
cerity in the prepuffed entertainment which 
Mrs. Croesus is to give to-morrow night at her 
palatial mansion ? Is there much enjoyment 
in the anticipation of an entertainment which 
is to cost the poor devil of a stock-jobbing hus- 
band most of the profits of his hap-hazard 
speculations ? Not a bit of it. The shining 
moire antique, the dainty lace, the sparkling 
gem, the contraband boquet, received by stealth 
from some famed gallant, may pass muster for 
a time in a crowded saloon ; but, Madame 
Croesus, you must come to grief in the end, no 
matter to what extent you have strained your 
extravagance ; for Madame Nouveau Riche 
will surely cross your path, and you will find 
yourself in an eclipse. Her scarf alone cost 
thousands, the plume that decks her chignon 
was the gift of a Russian prince ; her tiny fin- 
gers bear the tribute of a dozen lovers, each 
worth its weight in forgery and fraud. 

For mercy's sake, fair and beloved American 



1 8 Last Days of 

ladies, do set your faces against this reckless riot 
in extravagant display, this Vanity Fair. Turn 
your thoughts inward for a moment and reflect. 
Serious thought may perhaps induce some to 
exercise that moderation which will commend 
itself even in this railroad age. Vie not with 
mushrooms that spring up in a night, and 
wither if they be not promptly gathered. The 
test of social elevation is a moderate tone of 
conduct, for that marks a mind secure in its 
own strength and equal to the destiny to which 
Heaven has invoked it. 

Genuine hospitality was a prominent feature 
of Knickerbocker life. The old fogies had 
hearts, and big at that, though their careful- 
ness would now be set down as parsimony, 
but their sympathies and their pleasures 
clustered around the family hearth in winter 
and the family porch in summer. Home 
was the family castle ; it was the stronghold 
to which even the offshoots clung, and in time 
of trouble it afforded a sure refuge for all the 
worthy ones who raised the brass knocker. 
It was reared upon a sure foundation ; and 
frugal forethought was the bolt employed 
to bar the entrance against harassing and 
wasting cares. Order, punctuality, and clean- 



Knickerbocker Life. 19 

liness were its chief ornaments, and it was ever 
ruled by a parental authority strictly enforced. 
There was no lack of social enjoyment within its 
enclosure, but even that was tempered by a 
moderation which precluded the idea of satiety. 
The tables of our forefathers were simple in 
appointments, yet they were bountifully pro- 
vided when the limited variety which the 
markets afforded was considered. The meal 
consisted of one course, or rather the repast, 
comprising meats, poultry, vegetables, pies, 
puddings, sweetm.eats, and fruits (viz. : New- 
town pippins, almonds, and raisins), was 
crowded upon the board with such artistic 
arrangement as circumstances would permit. 

As extension tables had not then been 
introduced, considerable figuring had to be 
indulged in, before the blue china platters 
could be placed so as to allow sufficient 
space for the full display of the French 
gilt-edged tea-set which was the matron's 
pride. The viands on these grand occasions 
— when perchance the Dominie, Doctor, 
or some other dignitary was to honor the 
house with his company — were prepared or 
directly superintended by the dame in person, 
as those duties were too important to be per- 



20 Last Days of 

formed by deputy and far too delicate to be 
executed by a menial. In this connection there 
comes up a vivid recollection — grandmother's 
pantry. To us youngsters it appeared the store- 
house of everything that mortal men could 
either desire or hope for to make life a perfect 
Elysium. 

That pantry has its charms even now in 
fancy, as its many dainties are recalled ; not- 
withstanding some sage modern philosopher 
has discovered the astounding fact that the man 
who sighs to taste once more such pies as his 
mother made, would be sadly disappointed, 
were his wish complied with, to find he was sadly 
mistaken, as he had lost his youthful appetite. 
That idea is only "a weak invention of the 
enemy." In any event grandmother's pantry 
would be a curiosity to our city ladies who are 
accustomed to the convenient market and 
grocery, restaurant or confectioner's shop, 
from which at a moment's notice any needed 
article of necessity or luxury can be obtained. 
Grandmother had no such reserve from which 
to draw in case of emergency, but was com- 
pelled to rely upon those famous pantry 
shelves to furnish the needful supplies or the 
few extra dainties essential to the proper en- 



Knickerbocker Life. 21 

tertainment of guests. Groceries, in the old- 
fashioned meaning of the word, constituted 
the bulk of the treasures hoarded within the 
tabooed enclosure of that mysterious recep- 
tacle. 

The door was carefully locked against the 
inquisitive eyes and quick fingers of the 
household hopefuls, who were ever on the 
alert for a sly peep and grab, should the cau- 
tious cruardian chance for a moment to leave 
the door ajar. Flour, sugar, coffee, tea, with 
boxes of soap and starch, were the grand 
staples of the semi-annual supply, and were 
ranged upon the floor with mathematical pre- 
cision. 

The first wide shelf above these promi- 
nent essentials was devoted to the tin spice 
boxes duly labelled as to their several con- 
tents, with sundry large earthen jars which 
were well known to contain the plain cake for 
daily use ; while carefully behind them were 
stored, as a precautionary measure, a couple of 
similar receptacles, which were special objects 
of interest, as they hid from view the best 
pound and plum cake, a bit of which was now 
and then awarded as the reward of extraordi- 
nary virtue, but was especially dedicated to 



22 Last Days of 

occasions when it was deemed absolutely indis- 
pensable to parade "the company tea-set," of 
silver, and the little cut-glass preserve plates 
which stood up in a corner, with tissue paper 
between each, lest they should by accident be 
scratched by friction. The second shelf was 
reserved for sweetmeats, which, though not so 
varied in kind, are in memory far more luscious 
than the elaborate compounds now purchased 
in their stead by grandmother's aristocratic 
descendants. Peach, plum, quince, about com- 
plete the list ; but the fruits were carefully 
selected, and loaf sugar unadulterated by 
chemical science was the only agent employed 
in their preparation by the skilled housewife 
in person. 

Her whole soul was, however, engaged in 
the work, and her syrup was not to be sur- 
passed in richness or clearness if care and as- 
siduity could prevent. Quality was her aim 
in sweetmeats, as well as her standard in 
more important matters than those pertaining 
to mere articles for consumption ; though 
excellence in these was a sine qua non to her 
conception of good breeding. No baskets of 
champagne or cases of Rhine wine ; no im- 
ported sauces, marmalades, pickles, or appe- 



Knickerbocker Life. 23 

tizers were displayed on the shelves, but 
Jamaica rum, pure Madeira and French brandy, 
with a fiask of peppermint cordial, were then 
ever at hand to ''welcome the coming or speed 
the parting guest." 

In the winter, Newtown pippins mingled 
their aroma with the other orood things 
stored in this house of plenty. One of 
these good things must especially not be 
overlooked, for it is not seen to-day, save in 
the window of some confectioner, where it is 
barely recognizable, though it bears the name 
still of peanut candy. The thin, attenuated 
paste has but slight resemblance in appearance, 
and does not approach in taste the massive 
blocks of the spiced delicacy which rose like a 
monument to bid defiance to the most vigorous 
attacks of man and boy ; but, as plate after 
plate was hammered off to meet the demand 
created by the bright circle congregated around 
the cheerful hickory blaze, it disappeared ere 
the long Winter had lapsed into Spring. Here 
and there, at prominent points on the shelves, 
were displayed ancient family heirlooms in the 
crockery line, preserved as mementos of some 
favorite set which had succumbed to the ravages 
of time. 



24 Last Days of 

Grandmother took great pride in regaling- 
our young eyes with an occasional inspec- 
tion of these much revered pejiates, many of 
them having been special transmissions from 
the far-off, dusty past. Their separate histories, 
as received from her lips, invested each plate, 
cup, or saucer with a consideration which bor- 
dered upon veneration, and we considered them 
as actual witnesses to a long line of worthy 
ancestry. Grandmother's pantry was a fact in 
youth ; it is still, as it were, palpable in middle 
age, for, having once been seen and known, it 
can never be forgotten, but will hold its place 
in memory, despite all the modern appliances 
and lazy counterfeits which increased wealth 
and luxury have introduced in its stead. These, 
as they pass away to give place to newer inven- 
tions, which pander more and more to inertia 
and sloth, have no charm upon which recollec- 
tion loves to linger ; they fix no bright spot in 
childhood's days. 

Grandmother's parlor will appear very indi- 
gent, commonplace, and perchance poverty- 
stricken, to such as have known no other than 
the richly appointed drawing-rooms now so 
essential to comfort, and actually demanded by 
respectability. 



K^iicker backer Life. 25 

The stiff, high-backed, armless mahogany- 
chairs, covered with shiny black haircloth 
fastened to the ponderous frames by brass- 
headed nails, thickly set, all ranged at pre- 
cise distances, plumb against the wall, like 
sentinels at a " present " ; the long, narrow, 
hard sofa, with seat so round, unyielding, and 
slippery, that it afforded capital coasting for 
youngsters, when the lynx-eyed guardian of 
the sacred domain was too busily employed in 
household duties to check the contraband 
sport ; — this sofa would certainly not be claimed 
a second time as a couch of ease for the repose 
of a fashionable belle after a night of dissipation. 
The rolls, which for form's sake were styled 
pillows, and stuffed in appropriate niches at 
either end, would have afforded but slight ease 
to her aching head, for they were as unimpres- 
sible as flint ; the grand, best carpet of the 
highly-prized Lily pattern, with its straggling 
vines and well-developed leaves of the brightest 
possible green, would fail to meet the entire 
commendation of the eye accustomed to the 
subdued substance of velvety softness at pres- 



ent m vogue. 



The high, broad mafttle tree of gaily varie- 
gated Italian marble would be looked upon 



26 Last Days of 

as a waste of raw material when viewed side 
by side with the chiselled resting-place for 
statuettes which ornament the modern salon. 
The china vases mounted on pedestals and 
filled with artificial roses, as unlike nature as 
man could possibly make them ; the tall, highly- 
polished silver candle-sticks, flanked by the 
inseparable snuffers and tray rubbed bright to 
match ; the old-fashioned sideboard with heavy, 
stubby decanters filled with Madeira and 
Santa Cruz, and its silver baskets each day 
replenished with fresh doughnuts and crullers 
as an earnest of hospitality ; — the station- 
ary pier tables at the extremities, special 
places of deposit for the family Bible, a vol- 
ume or two of some well-authenticated com- 
mentaries and a copy of Watts's hymns, which 
books were the mainstay of the household so 
far as library was concerned — as the venerable, 
if not to say venerated New York Observer 
furnished weekly all the desired information 
on missionary subjects, which were then 
deemed of paramount importance to a com- 
munity so supremely happy and contented ; — 
the diminutive, thin-legged, wheezy piano, 
purchased during some paroxysm of extrava- 
gance, but never opened save on dusting day ; 



Knickerbocker Life. 27 

the indispensable rocking-chair and foot-stool ; 
the portraits of grandfather and grandmother 
as they were supposed to have presented 
themselves in their far-off youth to the artistic 
eye of some travelling painter — they were me- 
mentos of the fact that a marriage had taken 
place, and served to transmit some faint idea 
of a long defunct costume ; a worsted-work 
sampler, commemorative of some solemn 
churchyard reminiscence, or the more com- 
mon Ten Commandments, the crowning- effort 
of a much-beloved, departed daughter ; — these 
having been named, the ordinary array of 
decoration is complete, with the single excep- 
tion that the bright green, inside Venetian 
blinds so essential to completeness of detail 
were for the moment forgotten. 

But, thank goodness, the oversight was dis- 
covered in time to avoid giving a pang to some 
ancient dame, who had dusted and shaded 
them for so many years that she would not 
easily have pardoned this negligence on the 
part of one who professes to narrate facts and 
describe things as they were. 

Many of the quaint pieces of furniture 
which were grandmother's pride are still sound 
and firm, for they were made " not for a day, 



28 Last Days of 

but for all time," but they are rarely seen save 
on moving day, when, with much tugging 
and many a half-suppressed — thought, they 
are borne by unappreciative hands from one 
garret, together with dust and cobwebs, into 
another, until such time as the words To Let 
are posted on the door-way of their uncertain 
resting-place ; for grandmother's descendants 
have become birds of passage who soon tire 
of sameness, and have long erased from their 
lexicon the now practically historic word 
"home." Still, on a sharp winter night there 
was solid comfort and unfeigned enjoyment in 
that primitive old parlor. The oak logs piled 
high on the massive andirons, blazing and 
crackling, dispensed a most genial warmth ; 
the astral lamp and wax candles shed a sub- 
dued, mellow light. 

At such a time the stiff high chairs were 
not amiss when drawn cosily about the 
spacious fireplace, and the family convened 
for social chat. Nuts and apples, cider and 
doughnuts, with grandfather's Santa Cruz 
toddy, comprised the entertainment. On 
such festive occasions the bashful sweetheart 
not infrequently managed to slip in, and while 
paring apples for the " old folks," would snatch 



Knickerbocker Life. 29 

the opportunity to glance the story of his love, 
and find himself assured by a crimson blush that 
would shed a halo about the prim old parlor. 

The simple, unostentatious home has at length 
passed away ; but long years have been required 
to eradicate the lessons it inculcated, and the 
staid habits formed by its punctuality and de- 
corum. The barriers which encircled it were 
firmly reared, but have now been levelled by 
worldly pride, aided by all the forces luxury 
could marshal to affect their downfall. 

The splendid palaces erected by modern 
Aladdins now constitute one of the crown- 
ing glories of our beautiful city ; they are 
magnificent to look upon, as row upon row 
springs up — they are indeed undisputed types 
of skilled labor. But the query starts almost 
unbidden, are not most of them costly piles 
reared on the ignis fattms of unsubstantial 
theory and doubtful bubble, which may at any 
moment enforce their transfer from the posses- 
sion of the vain reputed owners into the stern 
clutches of the tyrant Mortgage ? — when the 
gay occupants who revelled in their credit, 
based on hope alone, will find themselves 
quickly forgotten in the race for notoriety 
which now sweeps over Manhattan. 



CHAPTER II. 

The Battery — The fashionable promenade — Castle 
Garden — Yachting and rowing — Tompkins Blues 
and Pulaski Cadets — Origin of the "Old Guard" — 
Washington Hotel — Whitney, Phoenix, Schenck, 
Schermerhorn, and Ray move up-town — Peter Bayard 
the epicurean — Turtle soup and port — Miss Mann's 
boarding-house — Her guests — The City Hotel — Its 
famous furniture — Its table — Its wine-cellar — The 
Knickerbocker dinner-hour — Colonel Nick Saltus — 
His costume — Werckmeister the toy importer — 
Hollingsworth and his self-imposed duties. 



THE Battery was our " breathing spot," and 
its charms were chanted with the same 
pride and dehght now manifested by 
young New York when descanting on the 
splendors which cluster in and about the Cen- 
tral Park. Its gravelled shady paths and some- 
what irregular plots of grass had not been 
superintended by a professor educated in the 
science of landscape gardening, nor was the en- 

30 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 3 1 

closure under the special care of a " high com- 
mission." 

Still, no modern art or set of men possessed 
the power to add to the natural beauties of 
its surroundings, as the eye swept over our 
unrivalled Bay, any more than could such hu- 
man agencies supply the life-giving breeze, 
which on each afternoon was freely wafted from 
old Ocean, to cool the fevered city. It could 
boast of no statues, it had no sequestered 
bowers or artistic fountains, no mall with its 
music, no lake with its gondolas, no deer, buf- 
falo, camel, or Merino sheep ; its benches were 
rude, unpainted boards, admirably adapted to 
tell the finish of a new penknife. And yet lack- 
ing all these and many more of the newly dis- 
covered necessities of the present hour, it was 
to us a park of unequalled beauty, and travel- 
lers from distant shores were loud in its 
praises, though their recollection of far famed 
Naples was vividly fresh. 

The Battery was our summer promenade, 
when it was no bar to social standing for a 
family to remain in the city, for even the belle 
or gallant did not lose caste by declining to 
participate in the routine of watering-place life, 
simple and inexperienced as it then was. We 



32 Last Days of 

had summer resorts in those days, and they 
were patronized by the best and most promi- 
nent citizens of the country. The springs at 
Saratoga were resorted to, primarily for their 
restorative quahties ; but the visitors who 
sought them, very far from playing the r6le 
of confirmed invalids, made their sojourn there 
a season of rational, temperate enjoyment, 
which enabled them to return to their duties 
reinvigorated in mind as well as in body, 
anxious for the renewal of the pleasant asso- 
ciations then formed, when another year should 
have rolled away. 

" The Beach at Rockaway," immortalized by 
the military poet, Geo. P. Morris, was another 
and more accessible resort where New Yorkers 
were wont to congregate ; while the now much 
despised Coney Island, with its broiled chicken, 
its roast clams, and salt sea waves, lured many 
a party to its unpretending hotel. No serious 
preparations were requisite for the pleasure 
trips ; no scrimpings or curtailments needed on 
the part of father or mother to fill Saratoga 
trunks with dresses, or liquidate extortionate 
charges. Marriages were more decorously 
brought about ; flirtations more innocent and 
far less expensive to all parties concerned, 




w cc 



Knickerbocker Life, 33 

" As the sun went down — " No, not exactly 
then, for one of the maxims of the day was 
'' Early to bed and early to rise " ; but when 
the sun was far past its meridian power, the 
best, the bravest and the fairest of our denizens 
wended their way to the Battery to enjoy a 
stroll and exchange friendly greetings. It was 
in reality a pleasure ground ; the levelling hand 
of greedy speculation had not touched it, and 
it was removed from the dust and turmoil of 
traffic. Private residences as pretentious as 
any the city then possessed flanked it on the 
North and East : on the South and West the 
grand old Bay glistened and danced. 

The yacht with its symmetrical lines, its 
raking masts, its cloud of snowy canvas, its club 
house, commodore, regatta, cup, its balls and 
signals, its nautical lore and international pride, 
was then in \}vi& periauger 2,nA cat-boat state of 
existence. The Artterica had neither been de- 
signed nor launched, but George Steers was 
perhaps whittling chips into the curving shapes 
which eventually gave to his name a world- 
wide fame. 

The oar was then, however, in its glory, 
unstained by the gambling matches which in 
latter days have fastened themselves upon this 



34 Last Days of 

manly invigorating sport. The Wave, with 
her famous four-oared crew, was the champion 
boat of the hour. The RolHns and Dunder- 
dale Brothers were the athletes whose power- 
ful, steady stroke achieved her renown ; and 
the hearty plaudits of promenaders were freely 
awarded them when, displaying their masterly 
skill, they sent their tiny shell at a racing pace 
over the waters. 

Castle Garden, the legend says, was created 
to protect the city against the foreign invader. 
Whether these invaders were to be New Jersey 
Indians, armed with bow and arrow, or Staten 
Island pirates, bent upon destruction with pop- 
gun and firecracker, is not related ; but it is 
certain very limited force would have been 
required to effect an entrance through its brick 
walls. About the time we write of, its " loud- 
mouthed" armament had been removed ; it 
had been placed, by special orders from some- 
where, on a peace footing. It was neither a 
concert saloon, an opera house nor a receptacle 
for needy immigrants; but the old white-washed 
barn was devoted to the restaurant business 
on a very limited scale, as ice-cream, lemonade, 
and sponge cake constituted the list of the 
delicacies from which to select. The ticket 



Knickerbocker Life. 35 

of admission, required to pass its portcullis, 
cost one shilling ; but that was a mere form 
instituted to guarantee perfect decorum, for 
it was redeemable as cash, in exchange for 
either of the above-specified articles of refresh- 
ment. At the close of a summer day its 
frowning battlements were crowded with lis- 
teners, eager to catch a strain of martial music 
wafted from Governor's Island. 

Rabineau's swimming bath was moored to 
the wooden bridge which connected the old 
fort with the Battery grounds ; and on its roof, 
protected by an awning, might be seen, after 
banking hours on summer afternoons, substan- 
tial citizens comfortably seated and refreshing 
themselves after their bath, with the sea breeze, 
accompanied by mint julep, and sherry cob- 
blers. 

The Battery possessed another grand attrac- 
tion, and one which has been excluded from 
the Central Park ; it was the favorite parade 
ground of our famous militia, then under the 
command of Major-General Morton. The 
official and domestic headquarters of this 
dignitary were situated on State Street, and 
as the veteran clungr to his honors lone after 
age had rendered him too infirm to mount 



36 Last Days of 

his charger, the "crack" corps of the division 
at intervals paid their commander the com- 
pHment of a marching salute, to be reviewed 
from his balcony ; and at the same time win 
the smiles of beauty as a reward for their 
gallant bearing. 

Conspicuous among these military organiza- 
tions were the Tompkins Blues, Captain 
Vincent, and the Pulaski Cadets, Captain 
McArdle. A fierce rivalry existed between 
these two commands, and when either paraded 
it was certain to be accompanied by a side- 
walk committee of admiring sympathizers and 
imposing numbers. So far as the public could 
judge, both were composed of good men and 
true ; they were natty and neat in their 
soldierly make-up ; they certainly marched 
with the determined, precise tread of veterans 
who had been under fire and would not flinch. 
Sure it was, both had an undisputed reputa- 
tion for charging upon a well-loaded board with 
a will that left no tell-tale vestige. 

The esprit de corps, so characteristic of their 
early career, has been in a measure transmitted 
to their successors, who keep alive the strife 
for supremacy under the titles of Light and 
City Guards respectively. But the veterans of 



Knickerbocker Life. 2)7 

the rival factions, enfeebled by excessive gas- 
tronomical service, no longer able to cope 
with the fresh recruits, have enrolled them- 
selves as a band of brothers, and by special 
legislative enactment assumed the imposing 
title of the Old Guard. By special order of 
their chosen commandant, the now venerable 
George W. McLean,^ these scarred warriors 
meet now and then, clad in full regalia, to 
fight their battles over again ; to pledge each 
other in sparkling bumpers, with " no heel 
taps," in commemoration ot Old Lang Syne, 
and to close up the ranks, as one after 
another falls by the way in this battle of 
life. 

The streets bordering on and adjacent to 
the Battery were the choice spots of abode. 
Commerce in its imperative demand for space 
at length drove off the reluctant proprietors, 
and this once favorite lounging place dwindled 
by neglect into a barren waste, visited by few 
save the homeless immig-rants who sought shel- 
ter in the barracks at Castle Garden, and the 
lawless vagrant who prowled about to plunder 
the friendless stranger just landed on our 
shores. Many of the original houses still re- 

' Major McLean died in 1893. 



38 Last Days of 

main, but have passed through all the stages 
of decline which mark city neighborhoods when 
tabooed by Fashion. 

At the corner of Broadway and Marketfield 
Street there still stands the outward present- 
ment of a once famous mansion, which now 
bears the sign of Washington Hotel. In former 
years it was the residence of Sir Henry Clin- 
ton, and noted for its generous hospitality. 
But its light went out, when Edward Prime, of 
the well-known banking house of Prime, Ward, 
& King, who tenaciously clung to it as his 
chosen home, was compelled to abandon it. 
Stephen Whitney, Phillips Phoenix, Peter H. 
Schenck, and the Messrs. Schermerhorn and 
Ray, with their confreres, were soon forced to 
follow suit in the up-town movement ; and 
boarding-houses ruled the district where the 
old stock were born, lived, and died. 

Before passing on, it would be remiss not to 
step in for a moment to exchange civilities with 
Peter Bayard, a publican albeit, but still a 
worthy and noted Knickerbocker. On State 
Street near Pearl there was a famous resort ; 
not famous by virtue of outward appearance, 
for it was but a simple two-story building. Its 
modest exterior, however, gave no sign of the 



Knickerbocker Life. 39 

glorious cheer which reigned within. Peter 
Bayard was the presiding genius, and his epi- 
curean fame extended far beyond the contracted 
city limits ; for pompous, portly patroons from 
the far off " up-river," with low-crowned, broad- 
brimmed hats, massive fob chains and seals, 
cambric rufHes, and spacious coat-flaps ; sedate, 
primly-clad sojourners in the city of Penn ; 
snuff-colored denizens of Jersey, and not a few 
typical representatives of the " 'cute notion " 
tribe, who had heard of the morsels which 
Peter wrought to tickle the palate, came per- 
sonally to test their truthfulness. 

Peter dispensed choice wines and liquors ; 
the rarest bivalves were sure to be found there 
in season ; in fact, he ransacked the market to 
procure dainties to educate taste. But Peter's 
crowning effort was Turtle Soup. That was 
the magnet which never failed to draw a full 
house. It was delicious ; even the dim recollec- 
tions of its savory fumes is tantamount to a 
feast, when pitted against the watery substances 
now served in its stead, even though they be 
served in gorgeous apartments and the vessels 
which contain them be of the nearest approach 
to genuine silver. For years Pete Bayard's was 
the rendezvous for old and young who culti- 



40 Last Days of 

vated and appreciated the inner man. After a 
bowl of turtle soup and a glass or two of his 
generous port, as a sure corrective for acidity, 
every one became a friend of our friend Peter 
Bayard. 

The trade of the city was concentrated at 
the southern end of the island, and as a se- 
quence the hotels were found in that section. 
They were not numerous, for their patronage 
in the main depended upon the then limited 
travelling public, and such bachelors as were 
forced from circumstances to avail themselves 
of this pretext for a home. 

To board was not considered exactly the 
thing by the matrons of the period ; and the 
dame who voluntarily abandoned her house- 
keeping and adopted hotel or boarding-house 
life in its stead, soon found herself deliberately 
snubbed ; while the one who was compelled by 
circumstances to submit to this curtailment of 
"woman's rights," was heartily commiserated 
by her friends at all their tea-party gatherings. 
Still, despite this positive drawback against 
hotel life, there was always to be found a fair 
sprinkling of human kind to enliven the parlor 
and prevent the dining-room from becoming a 
mere feeding trough. For man was not created 



Knickerbocker Life, 41 

to be alone when time began ; left to himself 
even now he would soon degenerate and be 
contented with husks, if they satiated ap- 
petite. 

Miss Margaret Mann was the head and 
front of the noted boarding-house of New 
York, and as this was largely patronized by 
the ladies, it deserves precedence. No. 61 
Broadway was a celebrated locality ; its capac- 
ity and reputation would perhaps entitle it to be 
styled a hotel. Aunt Margaret, as the hostess 
was familiarly called, was an advanced specimen 
of her sex. She wore a plain frock, wholly 
unornamented, and as scant as locomotion 
would permit ; no laces, frills, ribbons, bows, 
— knicknacks of any description did not find 
favor in her eyes. 

She mounted a skimpy cap on extraordinary 
occasions, but in full business trim her lank 
hair was twisted in an inartistic lump at the 
back of her head, while the balance was 
forced to make shift with an occasional "lick 
and promise," hastily bestowed. Aunt Mar- 
garet was a driving woman. No one would 
have dreamed of such nonsense as addressingr 
her in soft, soothing tones ; for the result 
would have proved about as satisfactory should 



42 Last Days of 

some fool attempt to pat and flatter a loco- 
motive under a full head of steam. Compli- 
ment or suavity were not in her vocabulary. 
Brusque and bustling, she was never known to 
rest, and rumor says she gave but little to her 
hard-worked employees. She was thick-set 
and heavy in person, yet she seemed ubiqui- 
tous, and no detective, even old Hays himself, 
could surpass her prying qualities. She was 
rarely demonstrative, but was known to pos- 
sess a tongue which when called into requisi- 
tion was a most powerful weapon either for 
offence or defence as the case might be. Woe 
betide the unlucky wight who provoked her 
wrath, for when fully roused she respected 
neither person, time, nor place. 

But under Aunt Margaret's hard exterior 
there was hidden a well of human kindness 
which occasionally bubbled up and demon- 
strated that the fountain at her heart had not 
run dry. To her own she was gentle and 
kind. To an aged mother and three orphan 
children of a deceased sister she was peculiarly 
attached, and her usually cold eye would light 
up with sympathetic pride when these were 
noticed by her guests ; but to no one save 
these children, and a few of their young com- 



Knickerbocker Life. 43 

panlons, did she ever betray the feelings which 
are generally attributed to woman. 

The house itself, beyond being eminently 
respectable, and so to speak, fashionable, had 
but little to recommend it. The parlors were 
plainly furnished and dimly lighted ; the bed- 
rooms scantily supplied with the commonest 
articles of necessity ; the long dining-hall, 
lighted from either side by a row of naked, 
staring windows, unadorned, with white walls ; 
narrow tables furnished with a goodly variety 
of palatably perpared food, but set out with 
cheap crockery, cheap glass, cheap everything 
which tends to render a meal attractive ; yet it 
was accepted by strangers of note, foreign and 
native. 

The guests of the house v/ere, as a rule, 
sociable, perhaps from necessity, for the circle 
of amusements was limited, and so men were 
satisfied to enjoy themselves vv^ith a dance and 
an occasional song. It was in the parlor of 
61 Broadway that Sinclair, the father of Mrs. 
Edwin Forrest, actually made his debut in 
America, for on the eve of his first appearance 
at the Park Theatre he delighted his listeners 
with the strains of the "Mistletoe Bough," a 
ballad which stamped his popularity with our 



44 Last Days of 

lovers of music during his prolonged engage- 
ment. Tyrone Power, when here, was also a 
guest at this house, and enchanted all who met 
him with his rich, polished brogue, and rollick- 
ing fascination of manner. 

On the whole, Aunt Margaret had seldom 
cause to find fault with her patrons ; but now 
and then, when ^ome interloper would acci- 
dentally slip in, she soon discovered some sum- 
mary method to dispense with the company of 
the objectionable inmate. 

The City Hotel occupied the entire front of 
the block on Broadway, bounded by Thames 
and Cedar Streets. It was not only the most 
celebrated house of entertainment in the city, 
but travellers asserted it had no equal in the 
United States. So far as architecture was 
concerned it was a plain, high structure, pierced 
with the usual number of square windows, un- 
adorned by lace or damask hangings ; with 
nothing, in fact, to exclude the rays of Old Sol 
or the impertinent glances of inquisitive neigh- 
bors but solid white inside shutters, most effect- 
ual bars against both light and air. 

The interior fittings of our Grand Hotel — 
whose register paraded the names of our most 
prominent citizens from every section, in addi- 



Kfiicker backer Life. 45 

tion to those of the limited number of travellers 
and tourists from abroad, who were sufficiently- 
enterprising to brave the tedious passage across 
the boisterous Atlantic — were very plain when 
compared with the gilded, frescoed palaces, 
adorned by every article of vertu which the 
cunning artificers of the Old and New World 
can devise to pander to an extravagant era. 
The furniture was the best of its kind, dur- 
able but unostentatious ; in perfect keeping 
with the modest views which then ruled. 
Substantial comfort, so far as it could be 
had, was the ruling motive, and in no in- 
stance was that paramount essential ever lost 
sight of to make room for senseless display. 
The dining-room of the City Hotel was spa- 
cious, light, and well ventilated, but its appoint- 
ments could lay claim to little save the most 
thorough neatness and scrupulous cleanliness. 
The waiters, ample as to numbers, were well 
trained and obsequiously attentive to every 
want, and the guest would have been more 
than unreasonable who found fault with a feast 
abundant in quantity and selected with the 
greatest care by the most experienced caterer 
in the land. 

Our markets were not bare of delicacies, 



46 Last Days of 

for our bay and rivers furnished fish in every 
variety and as delicate in flavor as they are 
conceded to be at present ; wild duck and 
game of every sort abounded within limited 
distance ; meats were plentiful and cheap, and, 
with the single exception of mutton, most ex- 
cellent in quality. But so far as fruits and 
vegetables were concerned, the supply beyond 
the commonest sorts was very limited, and 
that confined to the season when they could be 
raised out of doors in the immediate vicinity. 
The tomato, now so general an article of con- 
sumption, was unknown as an edible, and 
grown merely as an ornamental plant in coun- 
try gardens, where it was styled "love apple" 
by the agricultural dames. 

Dinner has, however, always been a most 
important daily event with all classes and con- 
ditions of men, women, and children. In the 
early days of our city the noon hour was de- 
voted by the plodding burghers to the enjoy- 
ment of the noontide feast. When the old 
Middle Dutch bell clanked twelve o'clock, 
work was suspended, as if " the affairs of men " 
had come to a full stop ; master and man quit 
without compliment, each hastening to his 
abode to devote the prescribed respite to the 



Knickerbockej^ Life. 47 

positive refreshment of his important person. 
Lunch is a very modern word, so far as New- 
York is concerned. Three meals per diem, 
and to be partaken of at home at specified 
periods, was the rule. Bites and nips were 
unknown in Knickerbocker parlance ; what a 
man ate or drank must be shared with his 
family. 

There were no convenient dives, a word 
well understood at present ; few eating houses, 
with " meals at all hours " displayed on flam- 
ing signs ; free lunches not dreamed of ; sand- 
wiches only prepared at home, and only on 
those rare occasions when some protracted 
journey of several hours' duration was neces- 
sarily undertaken. Breakfast, dinner, and tea, 
at the specified hour, was prepared at home ; 
and absence from either, or even a dilatory 
appearance, was deemed just cause for a domes- 
tic court martial, and if of frequent recurrence, 
worthy a sympathetic meeting of condolence 
by the watchful neighbors. 

When the City Hotel was in its full prime, 
some glimmering rays of modern improvement 
were introduced by one and another, who after 
visiting England and France had returned 
home inoculated with what was then contemp- 



48 Last Days of 

tuously styled "foreign airs." Some of these 
hooted at the primitive noon-meal so hugely 
enjoyed in their unpolished youth, and by 
slow stages three o'clock became the extra- 
fashionable limit for a meal called dinner ; 
for it crowded so closely upon the old Knicker- 
bocker tea, that the innovation was disputed 
inch by inch, as our grandmother's prerogative 
of a long, undisturbed afternoon was in a fair 
way of being wiped out by this new-fangled 
change in domestic life. 

The City Hotel was among the first to fall 
into line, and three o'clock was announced as 
its dinner hour, though a noon table was spread 
for the accommodation of such thorough-bred 
sticklers as would not conform. As most 
of the guests were business men, the change, 
however, was of slight consequence ; as these 
would not at any hour of the day have devoted 
the time to the discussion of a repast so essen- 
tial to good digestion. Dyspepsia always has 
been an American weakness ; all the Trollopes 
and Dickenses of the world cannot eradicate 
this national trait. It may be said that New 
Yorkers, especially, love dyspepsia ; at any rate 
they court it, from their cradles to their graves. 
The choice viands of the City Hotel table 



Knickerbocker Life. 49 

were dealt with in the most summary manner, 
as the hungry partakers were compelled to 
hasten back to store, counting-house, or office 
to resume the broken thread of traffic. 

There were, however, a few choice spirits, 
bachelors or widowers, Heaven only knows 
which, who had drifted, one by one, within the 
portals of the City Hotel, where, by similarity 
of tastes, they had formed a coterie of their 
own, and after passing the needful by-laws they 
had become a mutual admiration society. 
They clustered at a specified spot, of which 
they had formally taken possession, and each 
day settled themselves to enjoy to the full of 
their bent the evening of their days. They 
were men who had lived beyond the time when 
drudgery was a prime necessity, and by com- 
mon consent they lingered at the table after 
the heat of the battle for food was over, to 
crack their jokes, nibble their filberts, and sip 
their wine. 

The wine cellar of the Old Hotel was a well- 
known institution, and its memory is still cher- 
ished by not a few, who in youth had tasted its 
rare stores. Its shelves were loaded tier upon 
tier with the choicest vintages the nicest taste 
could call, and the selections were pronounced 



50 Last Days of 

by connoisseurs as unsurpassed In purity or 
flavor. The judgment then expressed was in 
after years amply verified ; for when the old 
stamping-ground was abandoned in conse- 
quence of the up-town movement, the rem- 
nants of the favorite brands were secured at 
fabulous prices by the initiated. 

Light wines from the Rhine and clarets 
from France were not then in vogue, even 
the now indispensable Heidsieck was but 
little affected, as the taste ran to the more 
generous, fruity, and invigorating Madeira, 
port, and sherry, of a quality and perfume 
which gold cannot purchase now. In these 
rare juices of the grape, the bevy of old bon 
viva7its delighted to indulge ; and it was great 
sport to watch them as a bottle of some choice 
variety was carefully uncorked by Chester Jen- 
nings in person. It was a perfect study to 
note the genuine glow of expectation that 
mantled the ruddy faces of the group, as each 
daintily raised his glass, that the eye might 
revel once more in the glorious tint ere the full 
fruition of taste should impart perfect earthly 
bliss. 

This band of " jolly good fellows," who lin- 
gered day after day for long years over their 



Knickerbocker Life. 5 1 

wine and nuts, were well-known characters in 
the city, and were especially familiar to such 
as visited the City Hotel, where they lived and 
died. A mere mention of some of their names, 
with a brief description of their peculiarities, 
will bring back many pleasing recollections to 
any one familiar with the men who figured in 
Gotham forty years ago. 

Colonel Nick Saltus, a retired merchant of 
wealth and a confirmed old bachelor, was the 
acknowledged chairman and spokesman of the 
peculiar group. In person he was short and 
thick set, with a manner so pompous that once 
seen, the man was for all time photographed 
upon the recollection. His tone of voice was 
unusually abrupt and dictatorial, and until molli- 
fied by his duck and olives, accompanied with 
copious libations of Madeira, he might with 
the greatest propriety be characterized as 
thundering cross. 

His dress was singular, rather from his; 
method of donning it than from any special 
departure from the prevailing mode. His 
costume as a rule consisted of a brown frock 
coat with velvet collar buttoned closely at 
the throat, a black handkerchief, stiff stand- 
ing shirt collar reaching to the ears. His gold 



52 Last Days of 

spectacles were balanced on the very tip of 
his well-cultivated nose, a formidable fea- 
ture, by the way, of his closely-shaven face, 
while his high beaver was canted so far to the 
front as completely to overshadow his eyes. 
His carriage was wonderfully erect, and he 
walked with the strut of a dandy up to his very 
latest promenade. The Colonel worshipped 
himself, but his little vanities were harmless, 
and his hauteur soon gave way when one had 
the patience to listen with respectful silence to 
the long-drawn details of his youthful indis- 
cretions and gallant exploits. 

For many years his migrations were limited 
by Cedar Street on the north and Wall Street 
on the south ; his aim being to have a good 
time and in his own way, which was systematic 
in the extreme ; and each day closed like its 
predecessor : the worthy Colonel was at or 
about ten p.m., considerably "how come you 
so," when, fortified with a generous bumper 
of spiced rum for a nightcap, the old fellow 
toddled off to bed. 

Werckmeister was the Colonel's right bower 
at table, but was as unlike him in every particu- 
lar as it was possible for man to be. Tall, sedate, 
quiet in dress and address, he was a fine repre- 



Knickerbocker Life. 53 

sentative of the German gentleman. There 
are but few citizens not familiar with the old 
sign, " Werckmeister, Importer of Toys," 
which, until very recently, was conspicuously 
displayed at the northeast corner of Broadway 
and Liberty Street, between which point and 
the City Hotel its proprietor migrated with 
marvellous punctuality for more than a quarter 
of a century. A bachelor like the Colonel, 
his whole time up to three o'clock was devoted 
to the traffic in which he had accumulated a 
competency ; but all desire for further gain 
was thrown aside when the all-important din- 
ner hour was at hand. "It's near three o'clock; 
Werckmeister is on his way to dinner ! " was 
daily the inward exclamation of many a belated 
man or boy who encountered him In his stereo- 
type tramp from duty to pleasure. The dining- 
room was the only place in the hotel that he 
ever frequented ; from habit he slept at his 
store until the day of his death, which occurred 
when he was far advanced in years. He loved 
to linger over the dinner table, listening to the 
chat of his companions, and if he ever spoke, 
the tone was so subdued as to be inaudible 
amid the boisterous conversation of his boon 
companions. Having no kindred in this land 



54 Last Days of 

of his adoption, he never was known to mingle 
in any society save such as he met at the City 
Hotel table, and with that his limited desires 
seemed fully satisfied. 

Hollingsworth, a third notable in this set, 
was an enigma to every one unacquainted with 
the man and his history. In appearance he 
was shrivelled and pinched, and had grown 
old and infirm in the hotel of which he had 
become a permanent fixture. For years he 
never left the house, and found occupation in 
self-imposed duties which he never neglected. 
Possessed of abundant means he denied him- 
self no comfort or luxury, yet he seemingly 
relied upon the proprietors with the simplicity 
of a child, and called upon them at all times 
as though he were the recipient of their bounty. 
The reading-room was his special care and 
hobby ; the newspapers claimed his undivided 
attention. Up betimes in the morning, he 
carefully filed each paper as thrown in by the 
carrier, in its appropriate place ; all, save one, 
and that one was the young, rollicking Herald 
which the old fellow slyly secured in the hope 
that it mieht contain some sweet morsel of 
scandal with which to regale the chosen circle 
at their morning meal. The evening journals 



Knickerbocker Life. 55 

received the same consideration at his hands ; 
while during the day he occupied himself in 
smoothing any crumpled sheet which had been 
carelessly tossed about. 

This simple task was his only occupation 
for many years, and was not wholly relin- 
quished until he had become too feeble from 
advanced age to quit his apartment. At times 
he was inclined to be chatty, and on a fine 
afternoon he presented a picture of calm con- 
tent, as, seated on the front stoop backed by 
the presence of the gay Colonel, he regaled 
himself by inspecting the panorama of fashion 
which filed past the door. 




CHAPTER III. 

Captain Barker the would-be philanthropist — His dis- 
approval of the Colonel and Hollingsworth — Trans- 
Atlantic package ships and clippers — Again the City 
Hotel — Its ladies' dining-room — Dancing — John 
Charruaud dancing-master — Public balls and concerts 
held in the dining-room — Henry Russell the English 
balladist — Captain Marryat writes a verse for Russell 
— Willard and Jennings — Niblo opens a new place of 
entertainment — Willard's troublesome acceptance of 
an invitation — His wonderful memory for names — 
Jennings the disciplinarian — Partnership conferences 
— Private residences — Stores — Anthony J. Bleecker & 
Company — Real-estate brokers and speculators — The 
lawyer's office — Insurance companies — " High Con- 
stable " Hays — " Dickey " Riker the Recorder — 
" Leather-head " watchmen — Wall Street — Colonel 
James Watson Webb — His duel with Marshall — 
Banks — Gold-headed canes — Prime, Ward, & King, 
Brown Bros. — Exchange offices — Wild-cat money — 
Securities — Inflated currency — Reckless gambling — 
Gold and the paper dollar — A scene in the Stock 
Exchange — The purchase of " loo Erie" — War 
rumors — Stock fluctuates and is sold — Lotteries — 
Mayor Clark. 

CAPTAIN BARKER, another prominent 
character in this old-fashioned group, 
will be readily recalled. He was a large, 
heavily-built man, scrupulously neat and me- 

56 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 57 

thodical in his sable attire, and withal so grave 
and dignified in his bearing that he would have 
proved a treasure to the most straight-laced 
sect in Christendom. When actively engaged 
in the personal happiness of discussing the 
delicacies of the ciiisine, he sometimes betrayed 
the fact that even he was afflicted by terrestrial 
weaknesses ; nay, the fact was almost estab- 
lished beyond doubt when, with flushed visage, 
he called for a further supply of Harmony 
Amontillado ; but, aside from these occasional 
moments of forgetfulness, he was apparently 
absorbed in some grand scheme having in view 
the amelioration of his race at large. 

He probably had no nearly allied kindred, 
for, though rich, no one seemed to claim rela- 
tionship. For hours he would sit almost mo- 
tionless at one of the reading-room windows, 
apparently unconscious of the bustle without ; 
and when casually addressed he would respond 
with a patronizing air, which had the effect 
of bringing the conversation to an abrupt 
termination. 

The Captain affected to disbelieve the post- 
prandial yarns of the Colonel, and to despise 
the frivolous jokes he habitually indulged inj; 
he even now and then exchanged glances of 



58 Last Days of 

deep disgust with the placid Hollingsworth ; 
yet it was by no means infrequent that the deep 
bass guffaw of the solemn Barker stimulated 
the laughter of these ancient revellers. 

The Trans- Atlantic packet ships, which sailed 
twice each month for European ports, were 
objects of the greatest importance, and, as a 
matter of course, their commanders were rated 
as far above men in the ordinary walks of life. 

These personages had made our clippers the 
pride of the city and, as we loved to call it, 
the envy of the maritime powers of the Old 
World. Marshall, Holdridge, Cartoff, John- 
ston, Lines, Ainsworth, Funk, and their co7i- 
freres, were men in whom every confidence was 
reposed, at a time when the passage to Europe 
was not the holiday jaunt it is to-day, in this 
age of floating steam palaces. 

Then the captains were the chosen guardians 
to whose care were committed the invalid wife, 
the timid daughter, the infirm parent, compelled 
to risk the perils of a long uncertain voyage in 
search of health, or from other cause of dire 
necessity ; and so momentous a step was the 
voyage then considered that relations to the 
third and fourth remove flocked to the dock to 
bid a tearful adieu to the adventurers. Many 



K7iicker backer Life. 59 

of the captains made the City Hotel their head- 
quarters when in port, and their company was 
eagerly sought by the veteran band. They 
were all on the quivive when a fresh arrival was 
announced from Sandy Hook, and they would 
proceed in a body to the Battery to obtain the 
first glimpse of some boon companion who had 
been charged with a momentous commission 
to procure some gastronomical luxury which 
w^as anxiously awaited. 

On the second floor of the hotel there was 
a spacious and somewhat pretentious apart- 
ment, called the Ladies' Dining-Room, prima- 
rily devoted to the use of families who were 
travelling or such ladies as were visiting the 
city for a limited stay. Its high, arched 
ceiling was more than usually grand, and it 
was decorated with three glass chandeliers, 
deemed marvels of extravagance. 

Dancing was indulged in to a very moderate 
extent in New York ; the pastime was discoun- 
tenanced by the church, and if not condemned 
as absolutely improper, the majority who val- 
ued repose, and had no peculiar longing for 
lectures on immodest levity, chose to forego 
any participation in the mazy dance, which con- 
sisted at the best only of a humdrum cotillon. 



6o Last Days of 

with occasional indulgence in the excitement 
of the Spanish dance, which would now be 
considered about as exhilarating as would be a 
glass of insipid orgeat to an inveterate toper. 
As a matter of course, with such a state of 
affairs in the dancing line, ballrooms were few^ 
and as the Ladies' Dining-Room was both cen- 
tral and its surroundings eminently respectable, 
it was on rare occasions converted into a salon 
de danse. 

These decorous assemblages were not de- 
nominated Balls, but were announced as Pub- 
licks, a queer idea of somebody, for they 
were not public in any sense ; the attendance 
being limited to the pupils, male and female, 
of John Charruaud, the dancing-master of New 
York for more than half a century ; and their 
much respected parents, who came not only to 
watch with pride the graceful undulations of 
their offspring, but also to see to it that no lev- 
ity was indulged in. For years Charruaud used 
this room for instruction ; in fact, up to the 
time when he built his celebrated ballroom on 
White Street between Church and Chappie 
Streets, on the very borders of civilization. 

This enterprise was at the time considered 
extra-hazardous, so far as speculation was con- 



K^iicker backer Life. 6 1 

cerned ; but the Professor lived and grew rich 
in his vocation, long years after the city had 
swept past his advanced step. He saw the 
neighborhood in which his hobby was built rise, 
flourish, and decay, and his pet assembly room 
become a dog pit, where nightly assembled the 
scum of European vagabondism. 

The City Hotel dining-room was afterward 
the scene of real " Balls " — of one especially, 
the " Bachelors' Ball," which was the great 
social event of every season, and was for many 
years given on the night of Feb. 14 — St. Val- 
entine's Day. It was a rather exclusive affair, 
managed by the " Young Bachelors' Associa- 
tion " (or club). Tickets cost ten dollars, 
printed on glazed cardboard from elaborately 
engraved plates ; and on one occasion they 
bore this couplet beneath a picture represent- 
ing dancing youths and maidens : 

" The brighest joys that Life can give, 
O Terpsichore, are thine ! " 

which created much merriment when some 
cruel critic called attention to the liberty taken 
with the name of the Muse of Dancing, which, 
properly pronounced, would rhyme with " hick- 
ory " better than with " shore," and hinted that 



62 Last Days of 

halting verse was peculiarly out of place on a 
dancing card. 

This useful dining-room occasionally was 
hired for concert purposes by artists from 
abroad, who by some accident had gleaned the 
important information that there were dollars 
in New York. 

Amone those who came to test this fact was 
Henry Russell, an English Jew, who gave a 
series of very successful entertainments at the 
City Hotel. Educated musicians of the time 
pronounced him a humbug, but his off-hand 
manner and peculiar style of song took with 
the public, and he left our shores with a well- 
filled purse. His voice was of very limited 
compass, and he introduced a peculiar order of 
ballad admirably adapted to its peculiarities, 
and claimed to be the composer of the music. 
Prominent among his most popular songs were 
" Wind of the Winter's Night," " The Ivy 
Green," " The Maniac," " Come, Brothers, 
Arouse," and "Woodman, Spare that Tree." 

" Woodman, Spare that Tree " was com- 
posed by George P. Morris, at the time a 
literary, military, society notable of the city ; 
and, moreover, in connection with Theodore 
S. Fay and N. P. Willis, he was the editor of 



Knickerbocker Life. 63 

the Alirror, the standard weekly of the North. 
Morris was human, and not a Httle elated by 
the popularity of his song, and therefore paid 
great court to the vocalist who was the means 
of bringing it so prominently before the pub- 
lic ; and, as a consequence, poet and singer 
frequently met at entertainments, for this Rus- 
sell became quite a lion in a certain circle. 
On one occasion, when both were present, 
Captain Marryat chanced to be a guest, and 
Russell was invited to favor the assemblacre 

o 

with the then popular ballad. As he was sing- 
ing the closing stanza with great pathos the 
distinguished novelist approached the piano 
and placed before him the following additional 
verse, written in pencil : 

" Lady, give me tea. 

And I will make a bow ; 
In youth it pleased me, 

And I do love it now ; 
'Twas my old mother's hand 

That poured it from the pot ; 
Pray, lady, let it stand. 

For it is d d hot." 

The laugh went round as Russell closed. 
The good-natured poet's pride was deeply 
wounded, and the genial, mirthful Marryat saw 



64 Last Days of 

too late that he had touched our mihtary laure- 
ate on a tender spot. 

Jennings and Willard were the well-known 
proprietors of this far-famed City Hotel. Wil- 
lard was the prominent partner so far as the 
guests were concerned. His station was in the 
office, where from sunrise to midnight he was 
ever faithful at his post. So marvellous was 
his activity of mind and body that his complex 
duties of host, clerk, book-keeper, cashier, bar- 
keeper, and Heaven only knows what besides, 
were bustled through, not only with apparent 
ease but with the most unruffled good nature. 
His world lay within the walls of the City 
Hotel, as will be abundantly illustrated by a 
simple but well authenticated anecdote. 

Billy Niblo, long known to fame by his con- 
nection with the prominent amusements of New 
York, had resolved to abandon his Pine Street 
" coffee house," and to seek his fortune by 
opening a suburban place for refreshment and 
entertainment. Many of his old down-town 
customers were invited to be present at the 
opening of the new garden, and among them 
several who were residents at the City Hotel. 
They accepted Niblo's courtesy and determined 
that Willard should make one of their number 



Knickerbocker Life. 65 

on the appointed evening. With his accus- 
tomed politeness he did not positively decline, 
so when the time arrived he was duly waited 
upon and notified of their readiness to start. 
He smiled his acquiescence, and began fidgeting 
and bustling around the office, looking first on 
this shelf and then in that cupboard, but evi- 
dently without meeting with the object of his 
anxious search. At last, giving up in despair, 
he announced to his friends that for many years 
he had not been the owner of a hat, and that 
some one had feloniously abstracted an old 
beaver which had long lain around awaiting 
the advent of its rightful owner. 

Fortunately this unusual predicament could 
easily be adjusted, for Charles St. John, the 
celebrated hatter, was directly opposite, and 
soon supplied the required article, and if still 
alive will tell of his great surprise when in- 
formed that Willard was going out. A hat 
was procured, and the triumphant party sallied 
forth in company with the best-known man in 
the city, but who, strange to relate, would have 
been compelled to inquire his way if he had 
been placed by himself a stone's throw from 
the City Hotel. 

Willard was of short, compact stature ; had 



66 Last Days of 

a well-moulded head, thickly covered with short 
cropped, wiry grey hair, small quick twinkling 
eyes, that seemed never at rest. Of an active, 
cheerful disposition, he had a ready reply to 
any question, and greeted each new arrival 
with an assuring smile of welcome. Between 
him and the travelling public there seemed to 
exist a bond of sympathetic freemasonry. The 
secret of this lay in his wonderful memory ; a 
face once seen, a name once scanned on the 
register seemed to be indelibly fastened upon 
his mind, and the many stories related of him 
bearing upon this peculiar trait had great 
foundation in truth. One well authenticated 
instance will suffice as an illustration. 

A gentleman with nothing peculiar in person, 
name, or position to fix his identity, had been a 
transient guest of the house, but owing to the 
serious illness of a favorite child, his stay had 
been prolonged many days beyond his anticipa- 
tions, and on the convalescence of the patient 
he had paid his bill and left for his distant 
home. Nothing more ; he did not even 
remember that Willard had exchanged with 
him any other than the most ordinary civilities. 
After an absence of more than five years, busi- 
ness called him once more to the city, and with 



Knickerbocker Life. 67 

carpet bag in hand he stood face to face with 
Willard, awaiting his turn to put down his 
name and to be assigned an apartment. Ere 
he had uttered a word or given the slightest 
sign of recognition the traveller was astounded 

by : " How are you, Mr. ? Hope your 

boy recovered ! Glad to see you again ! Show 
this gentleman to his old room, No. — ." The 
deed was done. The rise in that traveller's 
self-esteem was great, and Willard had added 
one more to his long line of admirers. 

We of to-day have a trite saying, such a man 
"knows how to keep a hotel." It would have 
applied to Willard in every particular save one 
— Willard had not a mean hair in his bushy 
locks. 

Chester Jennings was the unseen but by no 
means the unimportant partner in the manage- 
ment of the hotel. His quiet duties were to 
provide supplies and to superintend the details 
from cellar to garret. He was a tall, slight, 
serious man, who went about his daily routine 
apparently as uninterested as a stranger. Both 
proprietors, fortunately or otherwise, were 
bachelors, and all the responsibility of engaging 
and controlling chambermaids devolved upon 
Mary, who was known from Maine to Georgia 



68 Last Days of 

as the efficient adjutant-general of Chester 
Jennings, while the ancient Thomas, who locked 
the front door at midnight, and took supreme 
command, exercised a restraining supervision 
over the baggage, boot, and fire boys of the 
establishment. If there was marked disobedi- 
ence, either above or below, the culprit was 
reported to Mr. Jennings, when the simple 
order, " Go to Mr. Willard," was the sentence 
of dismissal from which there was no appeal. 
In the dining-room Jennings was commander- 
in-chief, and the silent clock-work movements 
of his subordinates might be imitated to advan- 
tage in many modern establishments where 
pompous head waiters strut about in imitation 
of the guests who were present to meet Mr. 
Samuel Weller, " when he partook of the soiree 
prepared in his honor by the * Select Footmen 
of Bath.' " 

At what special hour Jennings and Willard 
held business conferences was a mystery to the 
earliest riser, as well as to the last one who 
retired when the old porter took formal pos- 
session. Certain it was they were in perfect 
accord, for nothing ever occurred in or about 
the City Hotel to mar the comfort of its many 
guests. 



K^ticker backer Life. 69 

In the immediate vicinity of the City Hotel 
there still remained some few private resi- 
dences, though the majority of the buildings 
had been changed into shops or stores ; for at 
the time there were but few places of business 
worthy to be designated as warehouses, and 
they were adjacent to the East River, where 
all the shipping of the port was moored. 

Abraham Bininger and Sons, the most ex- 
tensive retail grocers in town, occupied a store 
on the block above, not far removed from which 
was the jewelry establishment of Marquand and 
Co. with an immense gilt eagle over the door ; 
the book store of Edward Long; Milhau's 
pharmacy, Rushton's drug store, etc. 

Offices had not become numerous. Lawyers 
did not at the time constitute a formidable 
body, while middle men, or brokers, as they now 
are termed, and who have become so numerous 
in every branch of business or industry, were 
unknown, for men in their transactions met 
face to face. Real-estate brokers, whose offices 
are now seen on every thoroughfare, and who 
are so crowded together on Pine, Cedar, Liberty, 
and Nassau Streets that men marvel by what 
hidden process so many eke out a subsistence, 
were represented by only one firm of any note ; 



70 Last Days of 

and even Anthony J. Bleecker & Co., of No. 5 
Broad Street, would have had but a shm income 
if all their resources had been derived from 
commissions on real-estate sales. The office of 
Register, now one of the most lucrative in the 
people's gift, was a " one horse affair," of lit- 
tle importance. The land speculation of 1835 
was the entering wedge for brokers ; then they 
began to thrive on paper projects ; imaginary 
cities were sold and resold for notes payable, 
but their backs had to be covered with endorse- 
ments to ensure the slightest consideration at 
the banks. 

The sanctum of the lawyer had its pine, 
baize-covered table, on which were seen in most 
admirable disorder, a grey stone inkstand, a 
plentiful supply of stubby quill pens, a pad of 
red blotting paper, a boxwood sand box, a 
meagre scattering of settled cases tied with red 
tape, pitched here and there, as a cheap mode 
of advertisement ; a few unpainted pine boxes 
placed one upon the other as a makeshift for 
a book-case ; two or three chairs of divers pat- 
terns and degrees of dilapidation ; a carpetless 
floor beofrimed with ink and dust. This 
cheerful abode of legal lore was generally on 
the second floor back, on some side street, and 








OS a 



> < 









K nicker hoc ker lA/e, ji 

was dimly Yi'/htf-A )jy a ^>jrigj^: v/jndov/, which 
had long ncj-AcA the attention of Aunt Chkx:, 
who did the chor^:s and sold apple and cran- 
berry tarts at a penny a piec^r on the doorst^:^>. 

Insurance companies have always b<;en a 
little " uppish" in their id^:as. Even in Knick- 
erbocker timf::s the president and directors of 
the " Non-Combustible" evinced positive aver- 
sion to going up stairs. They harl a hankering 
for an imposing office, ^:asy of access, where 
the Board would be proud to meet and partake 
of crackers and cheese; on their all important 
occasions; when the same set were to be elect- 
ed over again, always provided they were all 
alive ; and, in cas^; of death, while the survivors 
could unite as one man in d^rpositing the man- 
tl': of responsibility upon the shoulders of the 
next of kin to the departed co-director. 

Before insurance companies had grown so big 
or brov/n stone fronts were in vogue, or eleva- 
tors were invented, the prominent equitahUs 
were in the habit of leasing some old family 
mansion in the h»usiness ward, and using the 
fine roomy parlors, with their solid mahogany 
doors, their high marble mantlepieces, and their 
imposing brass grates and fenders, for their 
offices. The desks and railings in the front 



72 Last Days of 

parlor, the public room, were made of stained 
pine, but what particular wood the artist had 
attempted to imitate the artist himself alone 
could tell. The tint was usually of a reddish 
hue, and by common consent was called cherry. 

Conspicuous in the insurance office was the 
indispensable iron chest. This formidable safety 
contrivance was made of wood covered with 
straps of sheet iron, crossing each other at 
right angles and secured by means of immense 
wrought-iron knobs ; and in the multiplicity of 
these unsightly bulges lay its intrinsic value. 
When duly locked this important affair was con- 
sidered an impregnable fortress. It would, 
however, have offered but slight resistance to 
modern instruments in the hands of men who 
were impelled to personally inspect the valua- 
bles it was supposed to contain. However, in 
its day it fully answered all the requirements of 
a lock-up, for burglars were few, and they 
rarely disturbed the slumbers of "Old Hays" 
and his leather-capped guardians. 

Old Hays ! The name brings vividly to 
recollection that veteran terror to evil-doers of 
every grade, sex, and age, for even little chil- 
dren would on the instant stop their romping 
and tearing when orrandmother announced 



Knickerbocker Life. 73 

the oft-repeated threat, " Old Hays will be 
after you." Jacob Hays, the father of a 
family of sons who have for years occupied a 
prominent position in the financial circles of 
New York, was high constable and factotum 
in our criminal court. He was commissioner, 
superintendent, inspector, captain, sergeant, 
detective, and patrolman combined, and on this 
individuality the Knickerbocker relied for se- 
curity to person and property. Old Hays 
spotted and caught the malefactor, and Dickey 
Riker, the venerable Recorder, stamped the act 
as just and proper by consigning the miscreant 
to prison with the simple statement, " you 
know you are guilty and yoic must suffer 
some'' 

In those old-fashioned times, if the midnight 
prowler was apprehended, his doom was certain. 
The naked law was enforced, the prescribed 
judgment pronounced, and the sentence carried 
out to the letter. Perhaps the thieves and their 
accomplices were poor, but certain it is the 
modern " shyster," with his stay, straw bail, and 
impertinent sharp practice, was not at hand to 
give the aid of his acquirements in legal lore ; 
above all, the rabble horde had not attained to 
that high political position now a sure guaran- 



74 Last Days of 

ty against punishment for the most revolting 
crimes on the calendar. 

The person of Jacob Hays was most re- 
markable, and unless he was disguised for 
some special detective enterprise, his identity 
was unmistakable. His elongated body and 
stubby, disproportioned legs were surmounted 
by a head so large that it almost amounted 
to a deformity. His features, of the Jewish 
type, were prominent and striking ; his sharp, 
deep-set black eyes were almost hidden by 
heavy overhanging eyebrows, which had the 
effect of imparting a forbidding, sinister aspect 
to a face which, if analyzed in detail, would 
have been pronounced intellectually fine. By 
nature active and shrewd, he was endowed with 
almost superhuman energy and powers of en- 
durance. His varied exploits of cunning and 
daring formed one of the topics of the day ; 
they were recited with undisguised wonder, and 
by passing from mouth to mouth they of course 
lost none of their chivalric details. 

The assistants of Old Hays had light duties 
to perform, and as they were for the most 
part cartmen who were actively employed 
during the day, it was not surprising they 
should now and then take a quiet snooze while 



Knickerbocker Life. 75 

playing the extra role of watchman at night. 
Their peaceful slumbers, enjoyed on some 
slanting cellar door, were seldom disturbed, 
and then only by some party of youngsters 
who had put " too strong a stick " in their lem- 
onade, and under the influence of this depart- 
ure were less cautious than usual in the 
removal of signs and the " wrenching off " of 
brass knockers, as these latter were considered 
rare trophies as unmistakable evidences of a 
dare-devil spirit. These desperate breaches 
of the peace were even overlooked by the kind- 
hearted, leather-capped cartmen, and it was 
only when the boys were " real sassy " that 
they were locked up all night in the watch 
house, and the next morning led as culprits 
before the much dreaded " Dickey," who inva- 
riably in addition to the small fine imposed, " to 
make them S2iffer some,'" scolded them with all 
the earnest vim of an irate but loving and well- 
meaning grandmother. 

Some of these very cartmen, who began life 
as the humble but responsible guardians of 
slumbering Gotham, by dint of systematic labor 
and prudent expenditure, were enabled to drop 
their long brown linen shirts and overalls for a 
more extended field of usefulness ; and not a 



76 Last Days of 

few of their descendants who inherited the 
down-town homestead with the extra lots at- 
tached upon which were built the stalls for 
horses and cows, now rule with high preten- 
sions, and by their entertainments and costly 
display of rare exotics have become notables 
on our most fashionable avenues. 

Wall Street is Wall Street still, so far as its 
name is concerned. Under Knickerbocker 
rule it was known as the spot where money 
chaneers met, where commerce in its limited 
ramifications was the theme, and where men of 
substance found investment for their surplus 
means. The few banks then needed for de- 
posit and the purposes of legitimate business 
were there, as was also a small knot of bankers 
and brokers, who were the innocent forerunners 
of that busy, restless throng which now surges 
and seethes, as if the " day of doom " had come, 
and each one had " to hand in his chips," when 
the new Trinity clock strikes three. 

On the north side of Wall Street, between 
William and Pearl Streets, was the office of the 
Morniiig Courier and New York Inquirer, 
edited by Colonel James Watson Webb, whose 
stalwart form was a familiar sight in that vicinity. 
In a duel with Colonel "Tom" Marshall, of 



Knickerbocker Life. yy 

Kentucky, in 1841, he was wounded in the hip, 
and for some time thereafter was obhged to use 
crutches. He was arrested for " leaving the 
State, with intent to fight a duel," and at one 
time it was thought his prosecution was to be 
pushed to a conviction, but public opinion was 
not then violently adverse to " the code," and 
was inclined to lenity towards those who recog- 
nized its obligations and proved their faith by 
their works ; and for this reason, and perhaps 
for some others, political or social, the " fight- 
ing editor " went unpunished. 

The banks had offices fitted up with the 
simple appointments needed for the transaction 
of a moderate business. The few clerks em- 
ployed had abundant yawning time between 
breakfast and dinner, for they were not fur- 
nished with the expensive lunch so indispen- 
sable to their gentlemanly successors, who are 
ensconced behind elaborately wrought black 
walnut desks, and who can only be distantly 
gazed at through polished plate glass as they 
recline on their soft revolving chairs. 

The paying teller was not so pressed that he 
had no time to rectify mistakes, but generally 
found leisure for a friendly chat with his custo- 
mers. The cashier had a nook of his own, from 



78 Last Days of 

which he could not only see what was going on, 
but could also be seen and talked to on business 
without first obtaining the permission of some 
stalwart darkey, who now, Cerberus-like, guards 
the entrance to that all important personage. 
Business transactions were then conducted in 
a slow and cautious manner ; men laid their 
plans ahead, so that the cashier was not in- 
frequently applied to for the promise of a 
discount at some still distant day, as the being 
unprovided for indebtedness had begun to prey 
upon the mind of the applicant, warning him 
to make preparations to meet the maturing 
note. 

Credit in a great measure supplied the place 
of capital to the merchant and tradesman, and 
so long as credit was untarnished, disparity 
of means was unheeded by money lenders, 
and the requisite supply could be obtained at 
the banks without the intervention of middle- 
men, who now live luxuriously upon commis- 
sions extorted from necessitous borrowers. 

The presidents of these useful banks held 
their heads deservedly high among their fellow 
citizens, for the honor was conferred upon men 
who by their success in business had proven 
themselves worthy to be the trusted custodians 



Knickerbocker Life. 79 

of the property and interests of others. So 
they were excusable for any little vanity they 
might display by rapping the pavement rather 
hard with their gold-headed canes, as they 
walked with dignified tread through Broadway 
after their responsibilities had ceased for the 
day. The salary and emoluments of the posi- 
tion were insignificant, but the distinction con- 
ferred by the selection was the grand incentive 
to its attainment. 

The banking firms of Prime, Ward, and King 
and Brown Brothers were then almost alone in 
their calling, as but few individuals came into 
the market with private European bills of ex- 
change, since the demand would not have 
warranted the enterprise ; and Brown Brothers 
had gradually grown into this peculiar branch 
of trade through their extensive dealings with 
British manufacturers as dry goods commission 
merchants, in the prosecution of which they 
had gained the nucleus of their princely fortunes 
and formed their world-wide financial connec- 
tions. 

The few brokers who congregated in Wall 
Street had desks in basement rooms, which, 
with but rare exceptions, impressed the passer- 
by with an idea that struggling poverty was 



8o Last Days of 

the lot of the occupant, who was striving to 
eke out an existence by the frequent turning 
of a very small capital, on the plan of Frank- 
lin's nimble sixpence. 

In the windows of two or three of the most 
prominent of these basements were to be seen 
packages of the bills of country banks, then 
designated as uncurrent money, from the fact 
that they were not receivable at par over the 
counters of our city institutions, though they 
were considered a perfect legal tender in trade 
by retail dealers in payment for family supplies. 

This wild-cat money was procured by the 
brokers at a stipulated rate of discount, and 
resold by them at a slight advance to mechanics 
and manufacturers, who in turn purchased it 
and paid it out at par to their employees. 
Small stacks of foreign and domestic coin lay 
side by side with these paper tokens, and these 
jointly represented the stock in trade ; in other 
words, the window sill held the entire capital 
of the concern. Over the entrance, " Exchange 
Office " was posted, and a minute tin slab stuck 
in one corner of the window announced to the 
public the name of the proprietor. 

Transactions in securities were few and insig- 
nificant in amount, mainly for investment. 



Knickerbocker Life. 8i 

The greed for speculation had not tainted the 
plodding habits of business men, wrapt up as 
they were in their peculiar calling, satisfied 
with limited credit and contented with mod- 
erate gains. The railway and mining mania 
was unborn. The stocks and mortgage bonds, 
which now form the staple of the gigantic 
operations which daily, nay hourly, make and 
unmake scores of desperate speculators, were 
not in existence ; they had not drawn into 
the seething cauldron of Wall Street wealth 
from every corner of the civilized globe. 

When to these countless millions was added 
our inflated currency at the opening of the 
rebellion, the spirit of speculation pervaded 
all classes. Men became mad in their un- 
natural desire of becoming suddenly rich, and 
Wall Street became the magnet of attention. 
Men of all ages and conditions, leaving homes 
and former avocations, flocked thither, con- 
fident of realizing in a brief period a fortune 
which in the slow route of trade would con- 
sume a lifetime. " Brains, not labor," was 
the motto emblazoned on the banner of the 
day. The more unscrupulous the operator, 
the more assured seemed the success. Honor, 
honesty, self-esteem — all the higher qualities 



82 Last Days of 

which should attach to mankind were thrown 
aside in this wild chase after gain. 

Up to this period a comparatively small num- 
ber of brokers earned a fair subsistence by 
executing commissions at the Stock Exchange. 
The community at large, and even the deni- 
zens of the city, thought little and cared less 
whether the bulls or bears were in the ascen- 
dant, as the daily transactions at the Board 
were of so limited a nature as to have no 
effect on the general money market. Thou- 
sands of well-to-do men lived and died with- 
out even puzzling their brains about the ups 
and downs of the stock list. 

The great change came, as it were, " in the 
twinkling of an eye." From early morn till 
dark the street devoted to stock transactions 
w^as filled with an excited crowd of the new- 
found worshippers of Mammon. Old brokers 
were overwhelmed with commissions, new ones 
by hundreds rushed to the scene of excitement, 
and soon found ample employment in the in- 
creasing demand for their services. The din 
of voices could not drown the babel of tongues, 
for all the nationalities of the globe seemed to 
be represented in the surging throng. The 
shrewd Israelite, the cunning Yankee, the 



Knickerbocker Life. 83 

philosophic German, the mercurial Frenchman, 
the dignified Spaniard, the indolent Italian, 
the phlegmatic John Bull, even the spectacled 
blue-stocking was present. 

Millions had become the goal. Dollars, 
numbered by thousands only, were too insig- 
nificant to arrest attention. Supplies of stock 
were quickly furnished to satisfy the greedy 
man of speculation ; schemes equal in variety 
to the famed South Sea Bubble were promptly 
matured. Mines of gold, silver, copper, even 
of humble lead were opportunely discovered. 
Oil spurted up in every ravine and floated on 
every creek. New railroads were surveyed, 
organized, built only in imagination, and were 
represented by stock which was sold and re- 
sold before the printer's ink became dry, which 
was the only certificate of their value. 

Fools wondered, thinking men pondered, yet 
all plunged into this whirling torrent of reckless 
gambling. The mechanic, the artisan, evea 
the methodical bookkeeper was infected with 
the contagion, and roused to desperate deeds 
of venture, as bending over his humdrum 
ledger thus reasoning to himself : 

" No one can wonder that I, an humble book- 
keeper, eking out a bare existence on a salary 



84 Last Days of 

which is daily lessening in intrinsic value, 
should be lured by such a prospect of compe- 
tency ; many a lucky acquaintance has twitted 
me about my timidity and laughed at my fears. 
" Even this I could have withstood, but the 
fact stares me in the face, that gold is two 
hundred ; in other words, my paper dollar 
received as salary is becoming daily of less 
value, and my employer is apparently so 
obtuse as not to perceive that it is impossible 
for me to exist on a representation of money 
so nearly approaching to rags. I will venture 
my small savings as margin in Wall Street, 
and become a man among men. What should 
I buy ? whose advice shall I seek ? were my 
cogitations as I hastened to add my little self 
and my small capital to the wild confusion 
that reigned in and about the Stock Exchange. 
My destination was soon reached, but for 
awhile I forgot my errand, forgot myself. 
' An eighth' — * a quarter ' — ' three eighths' — 
' buyer three ' — ' seller three ' — ' regular ' — 
* cash ' — ' take it ' — * sold ' — ' broker up,' these 
and other equally cabalistic terms were bel- 
lowed from lungs which would have drowned 
the frantic yells of a Sixth Ward fire company 
during a most exciting race. 



Knickerbocker Life, 85 

" The crowd was dense, I tried to push 
through, I tried to back out, and was at last 
compelled to follow in the wake of a practiced 
habitue, who doubtless having money to bor- 
row or contract to complete, was elbowing a 
passage through the serried ranks. When on 
the point of giving up in despair, I chanced 
to meet an acquaintance ; was introduced 
to his broker, deposited my hard-earned mar- 
gin, and by his advice bought ' one hundred 
Erie.' 

" The important end was accomplished, I was 
interested in stocks ; on the high-road to for- 
tune, and no longer a subject for the jokes of 
my associates. In that one moment I had for- 
ever, as I thought, discarded drudgery and 
* make or break ' had become my motto. I 
hastened back to the counting-house and with 
an assumed composure stood once more face 
to face with my duty. Dull work was the 
ledger on that day ; one hundred Erie ap- 
peared at every footing, and stocks were every- 
where about me as I nervously waited for the 
hour of freedom to come that I might hasten 
to learn the result of my venture. The time 
at length rolled by, and I found myself uncon- 
sciously on a dead run, in company with hun- 



86 Last Days of 

dreds of others who were impelled by the same 
mad impulse. 

" ' Market strong. Erie up one per cent.,' 
was the reply to my anxious inquiry. One 
hundred dollars, a whole month's salary, made 
in a few short hours. To-morrow may dou- 
ble, treble, perhaps quadruple that. Fortune 
lighted up my future. Man naturally seeks 
congenial companionship. After a hearty meal 
I almost flew to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, 
then the night rendezvous of the restless spirits 
who knew no day, no night, no rest in their 
pursuit of lucre, and who each evening trans- 
ferred to that famed hotel their bewildering 
traffic, leaving Wall Street for the time to rest 
in solitary gloom. Here the busy telegraph was 
continuously at work, adding fuel to the fire. 
Battles lost or won ; recognition by England 
or France ; McClellan flanked, etc., were circu- 
lated ' thick and fast, like lightning from the 
Summer cloud,' by bull or bear as interest dic- 
tated. 

" To me this manoeuvring was a sealed book, 
in all else save when Erie was the immediate 
interest. It had already become a part of 
my being ; was mingled with my brandy ; 
it added to the solace of my cigar, as after 



Knickerbocker Life. 87 

midnight I dragged myself wearily home- 
ward to my couch, on which I threw myself 
with Care for my bedfellow, and passed the 
night with conflicting rumors pictured in my 
dreams. Morning dawned and I dreaded the 
suspense which awaited me during business 
hours. I dared not relinquish my situation so 
was compelled to perform my duties with my 
accustomed regularity ; but above all must be 
careful to give no clue by which my employers 
could possibly suspect me of having embarked 
in speculation, against which they had so re- 
peatedly and so earnestly warned me. During 
the day I had opportunities to hear reports of 
my darling Erie, and great was my dread lest 
I should betray my unbounded joy when the 
announcement was casually made that Erie had 
^ gone up ' five per cent. ' Five hundred dollars 
ahead,' it was almost too much for my poor 
crazy brain to withstand, without giving vent 
to my enthusiasm. 

" On my release from the day's thraldom, 
the glad tidings were confirmed by my broker. 
Better sell and realize was the monition of my 
timid, untutored judgment. The market is 
strong, says the Stock List. * Anything is a 
purchase,' is shouted by the crowd of knowing 



88 Last Days of 

ones, and eager buyers cry their bids, and 
snatch up each offered lot. I '11 wait. What 
is my judgment worth when compared with 
those of men who make stocks their study, 
and besides, my banker assures me he will 
watch my Erie as if it was his own. I decided 
to wait at any rate until to-morrow. 

" To-morrow came and passed ; a whole week 
elapsed and the market was still buoyant ; the 
bulls were jubilant, I being one of the named 
fraternity was in ecstasies of delight ; my mar- 
gin was more than dollars — a whole years- 
salary acquired in one short week. But, with 
all my delight, I was worn with continuous 
anxiety. I had become one of the restless, 
sleepless throng. Erie and I were one ; all 
else an uninteresting blank, and I firmly re- 
solved to sever the connection, to part with 
my idol. Nay, in my excitement vowed I 
would sell it, even though Wall Street jeer 
and tauntingly reproach me for my folly. 

" Fortified by this resolution, I calmly pre- 
sented myself within the Brokers' Sanctum 
armed with a written order to sell at market 
prices. The room was full ; clerks were driv- 
ing like madmen to compare the business of 
the hour. Orders to buy were pouring in from 



Knickerbocker Life. 89 

all sides, among which my Erie was promi- 
nently named. Why should I sell that which 
so many are anxious to buy ? Like a flash 
my determination has altered ; and I mingled 
with the buzzing crowd that I might hear the 
flying rumors of the hour. The leading bear of 
the street was largely short of Erie : — to-mor- 
row his contracts mature — he cannot borrow 
the stock he will need — he will be compelled 
to buy it in the open market — Erie must go 
up twenty per cent, before his wants are sup- 
plied — such was the story I gleaned from Re- 
liable Information. I did not then know the 
false-hearted jade, so tore up my order to sell 
and excitedly walked home, with a small for- 
tune which I should clutch on the morrow, 
when this short operator would be obliged to 
pay me a fabulous profit on my speculation. An- 
other dreamy night : 'that bright dream was his 
last ' ; my last, I should say, for that eventful 
morning revealed to me one of the pit-falls 
which Reliable Information digs to engulf the 
unfortunate possessors of small margins who 
venture on the quicksands of Wall Street. 
The knowing ones, who, like myself, had been 
posted as to the events of the day, were early 
on hand to take advantage of the most oppor- 



90 Last Days of 

tune moment in order to realize the highest 
figures. The Erie which had been previously 
loaned to the great bear was duly called in ; 
and to the great surprise of the young bulls 
was promptly delivered ; his contracts all 
punctually met, but no stock had been bought. 
Soon as the shrewd game had been fully 
played, the street was flooded with stock. 
Mortgage Bonds had been quietly bought up 
and privately converted, and the confident 
bulls found themselves loaded with a burthen 
too weighty to carry. The panic spread as 
one after another made frantic efforts to un- 
load ; ' Sauve qui petit ' soon became the order 
for getting out of Erie. I fortunately got out, 
but that was all, for my little margin with its 
accrued earnings was swallowed up in the 
whirlpool. I got out a wiser mian, at least in 
this, and I would have my limited experience 
engraved on the minds of everyone who dares 
to venture on untried speculation. To such I 
would say, ' Always sell when you have a 
profit, be it ever so small, and do not permit 
Reliable Information to induce you to wait 
until to-morrow. Capital makes information 
to suit its own ends, and sells it to such as 
dare speculate on small hard-earned margins.'" 



Knickerbocker Life. 91 

The bookkeeper's experience has been the 
lot of thousands, who, like him, were led astray 
by the fatal mirage and engulfed in irretriev- 
able ruin. But let us leave this sad digression 
and return to the peaceful Knickerbocker Wall 
Street, where hours of consultation and " con- 
sidering " were required before a share of stock 
was purchased. 

Lotteries were then legal enterpises, and the 
Exchange Office men were enabled to turn an 
honest penny by slyly furnishing checks to 
their customers. This petty species of gam- 
bling, though approved by the Legislature, was 
looked upon with distrust by the stiff-necked 
majority, and those who betrayed the weakness 
of habitually trying their luck, had the boldness 
to face the music and openly purchase their 
selected combinations, though there was not 
the stigma attached which now compels the 
infatuated devotee of magic numbers to slink 
behind screens and to carefully conceal his 
illicit purchase from the lynx-eyed guardians 
of public morals. 

Aaron Clark, a most popular and highly 
respected Mayor of the city, was extensively 
engaged in this business, and his name and 
occupation were placed over his office door on 



92 Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 

the conspicuous southwest corner of Broadway 
and Park Place. Mr. Clark had many intimate 
friends among the stanchest pillars, with 
whom he was often seen in earnest consulta- 
tion ; and naughty little boys would sometimes 
tell " how they had picked up queer pieces 
of paper which Grandpa had accidentally 
dropped," and on returning the same had 
been quietly rewarded with a bright penny. 




CHAPTER IV. 

The old Tontine Society — Cheap residences — The Wall 
Street Presbyterian Church — The first Express Com- 
panies — Their extraordinary success — John Hoey — 
The fashionable tailors — The old barbers — The orig- 
inal Grace Church — Doctor Wainwright — Miss Gil- 
lingham — Famous choir singers — The old post-office 
— The Middle Dutch Church — Three great divines — 
Doctors Brownlee, Knox, and De Witt — The elders 
and deacons — Several rules for youngsters — Choris- 
ter Earl and his tuning-fork — Dr. Samuel H. Cox — 
Great Thorburn — The " Mulberry Mania." 

THE old Tontine Society, though still 
nominally in existence, is rapidly ap- 
proaching its final dissolution, and is one 
of the last links which bind the present with 
the past Knickerbocker days. This ven- 
erable association began in what will soon 
become a misty era. It was founded by a 
company of merchants, and was incorporated 
by special act of Legislature near the close of 

93 



94 Last Days of 

the last century. Two hundred and three 
shares were subscribed for, at two hundred 
dollars each. With the proceeds, the lot on 
the northwest corner of Wall and Water Streets 
was purchased, and upon it the original Coffee 
House was erected. According to the first 
clause in the articles of incorporation it was 
to be used and kept as a coffee house, and for 
no other use and purpose whatsoever, until 
the number of corporators should be, by death, 
reduced to seven ; at which period the property 
was to be divided among the survivors in fee 
simple, and the trust to cease. 

The coffee house proper has long since disap- 
peared. Many years ago a change was effected 
in the original agreement, the building altered 
and leased for mercantile purposes, and the 
rents divided among the survivors in interest. 

There are but few now remaining among us 
who can remember when the Tontine Coffee 
House was a central landmark ; but few who 
were present when their grandfathers convened 
within its walls to indulge in moderate conviv- 
iality and to talk over the religious, political, 
and commercial topics of the times. These 
worthies were not myths ; they carried into 
outdoor life the same dignified bearing which 



Knickerbocker Life. 95 

insured them the unquaHfied respect of their 
individual famiHes, and they exacted from their 
juniors the deference they claimed as the pre- 
roorative of gray hairs. They constituted them- 
selves a committee of general supervision ; in 
matters of serious import their decisions were 
received as law, and public opinion was to a 
great extent based upon their approval. An 
old writer of eminence at the time, says : " Their 
conclusions were universally respected." In 
proof of which he instances their successful 
protest against a fashion of the period which 
was considered burthensome to the poor but 
respectable class of the community. 

" At that time it was the arbitrary custom to 
distribute indiscriminately expensive linen scarfs 
at all funerals, and many poor but worthy people 
were sorely pinched to provide this apparently 
necessary mark of respect for deceased relatives. 
Some prominent members of the Tontine 
Society called a meeting at the Coffee House 
to discuss this subject, at which nearly two 
hundred of those whose weight of character 
gave force to their decision, signed a pledge 
that they would abstain from the custom of 
supplying scarfs except to the dominie and the 
attending physician. Their prompt, decided 



96 Last Days of 

action proved the death knell to this useless, 
oppressive fashion." But in matters of more 
vital import, when really great public interests 
were at stake, a voice has gone forth from 
the old Coffee House which was listened to, 
and the words of warning or counsel heeded 
throughout the length and breadth of the land. 
The final close of the Tontine Association 
must be near at hand, when the story of its 
life will be written and the ramifications of 
its influence made public. Its records, which 
spread over three-quarters of a century, will 
form a most important social and commercial 
chapter in the history of New York. They 
should embrace the sayings and doings of 
many of the best and wisest men of their gen- 
eration, whom the people delighted to honor, 
and whose memories will be cherished when 
their strong, shining qualities are gleaned from 
an authentic source. 

All the banks, insurance offices, with bankers 
and brokers even included, occupied but a very 
limited portion of Wall Street ; indeed, most 
of them could find ample accommodation in 
one of the modern edifices which now line that 
crowded thoroughfare. Some private families 
still clung to their old-time houses, loth to tear 



Knickerbocker Life. 97 

themselves away from surroundings associated 
with the most tender ties ; but by far the larger 
majority of the homesteads had been converted 
into shops, as the rents, which could be ob- 
tained for business purposes, were thought too 
extravaofant for a mere domicile. Three or 
four hundred dollars would hire a first-class 
residence up in Dey or Fulton Streets, while 
a hundred or two more added, landed the 
rising family in the aristocratic Park Place, 
among the Motts, Hones, Carters, Hagger- 
ties, Austins, Beekmans, and Hosacks of the 
period. 

The Wall Street Presbyterian Church, pre- 
sided over by Dr. Phillips, stood on the north 
side, between Nassau Street and Broadway, and 
held its own until it was (" a Sabbath day 
journey ") removed from the majority of its 
communicants, when the property was sold at 
a high figure — say one-twentieth of the sum 
which would now be considered a bargain ; and 
the dominie with his flock found refuge in the 
stone edifice on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 
Eleventh Street, on the very outskirts of the 
fashionable boundary. Even there it is no 
longer safe, the Goths and Vandals of specula- 
tion are intrenching it on all sides, and it must 



9 8 Last Days of 

soon give place to the hum of business or the 
din of revelry. 

In close proximity to the old church, two 
men, whose names have since become famous, 
laid the foundation of a peculiar enterprise 
which has expanded into a wealthy and power- 
ful corporation, whose stocks are daily quoted 
and watched on the Street. Harnden and 
Adams both started singly and alone with but 
small capital, but each possessed indomitable 
will and was imbued with determined persever- 
ance. In the beginning, for a considerable 
time, each was his own and only messenger, 
and a couple of carpet bags sufficed for the 
stowage of the express packages entrusted to 
their care. Boston in one direction and Phila- 
delphia in the other was the terminus of the 
route traversed, and three departures per week 
amply served the requirements of trade. So 
quiet was the start of this now over-shadowing 
monopoly, that it was not until a wagon or 
two was brought into requisition, which were 
lettered either as Adams' or Harnden's Ex- 
press, that the majority of citizens were aware 
of its existence. 

The unparalleled success of this branch of 
industry is attributable to the strict honesty 



Knickerbocker Life. 99 

and undeviating promptness which character- 
ized its outset, and to these are the present 
stockholders indebted for the vast patron- 
age they now enjoy. Among the early em- 
ployees of the Adams Express was a busy, 
lively lad, who was determined to make a liv- 
ing. He cried papers on the streets when that 
was a very precarious undertaking, but was 
ever ready to hold a horse or run an errand to 
earn a small gratuity. By some fortuitous 
circumstance this boy drifted under the quick 
eye of Adams, and upon due trial, he proving 
to be both trustworthy and bright, became a 
fixture in the business. He grew with its 
growth and his mind kept pace and expanded 
with all the ramifications of its ever outstretch- 
ing branches, and at a ripe middle age John 
Hoey is the competent, responsible, and respect- 
ed superintendent of the great Adams Express, 
with which he has been associated without 
interruption from its inception and his earliest 
boyhood. 

Each of the corners of Wall Street, formed 
by its intersection with Broadway, was occupied 
as a fashionable tailor shop, the firms being 
Howard, Keeler, and Scofield and St. John and 
Toucey. Each had an extensive trade, both 



lOO Last Days of 

in and out of the city, founded upon the belief 
that the garments they furnished were ever- 
lasting ; a great recommendation at a period 
when the fashions were not fickle, and a great- 
coat or Spanish cloak was considered " good 
for best " during fifty winters, and could then 
be cut up for common wear. Solid West of 
England cloths were in vogue, and, tradition 
says, were so finely sewn and finished that it 
required hours of labor and a sharp knife to 
remove the nap from a single square inch. 
One of these " time-defiers," of a snuff brown 
shade, was seen last winter on Broadway pro- 
tecting a wealthy veteran of fourscore from 
the chilling blasts. On hasty inspection no 
shade of giving way was perceptible ; but there 
it was, a monument of the past. Its angular 
back, straight, narrow sleeves, scant, stiff, roll- 
ing collar and lapel, long flowing tails, bearing 
unimpeachable testimony that it was no modern 
fraud, but was the genuine handwork of the 
veteran Howard, who long years since, at a ripe 
old age, ceased cutting both coats and capes. 

On the east side of Broadway, just south 
of Wall Street, there was a busy little crib on 
the ground fioor. Its windows were ornament- 
ed with geraniums and a number of cages 



Knickerbocker Life. loi 

whose imprisoned inmates made the neighbor- 
hood cheerful with their melody. It was a barber 
shop ; nothing more, nothing less. Custom in 
those days decided that the Fathers should 
shave themselves, verily no slight undertaking, 
for few allowed their whiskers to grow, and a 
moustache, to say the least, was damaging to 
credit ; the dare-devil who had the audacity to 
sport one was surely denounced as an adven- 
turer, and home-bred youth were warned to 
avoid his acquaintance. Most of the " an- 
cients " wore their hair short at the top and 
powdered it freely, allowing their back hair to 
grow long, when it was stiffly braided. This 
appendage was elegantly styled a pig-tail, a 
liberal rendering doubtless of the French queue. 
This ornament necessitated the employment of 
skilled labor for its proper adjustment. So 
the barber was patronized by the dignified 
patricians. The barber has been a privileged 
and courted character since the dawn of civili- 
zation ; privileged to chatter, and courted for 
what in other men would be set down as too 
impertinent for endurance, and, strange to 
relate, patronized by old and young in propor- 
tion to his glibness of speech and fertility of 



imagfmation. 



I02 Last Days of 

The Dutchman is conceded to be the most 
silent and phlegmatic specimen of our race, 
poor Lo not excepted ; but let one of these 
taciturn Teutons adopt the trade of " shaver," 
and no sooner has he placed a man's head in 
position, wrapped the victim in a damp towel, 
slushed his face with suds, and stropped the 
razor on the palm of his hand, than away goes 
his unruly member, popping off questions, 
opinions, and declarations with a vim that would 
excite the French nation almost to the vero^e of 
revolution. The barber, as a rule, does not 
read the papers, for they are too slow and by 
far too circumscribed in detail to furnish the 
supply of entertainment needed by a tip-top 
tonsorial artist ; he is therefore compelled to 
vigorously "pump" certain customers that he 
may administer to some other the soothing 
strains of enchanting scandal, and thus enable 
them to survive the scraping ordeal. 

Maniort, the proprietor of The Knicker- 
bocker Barber Shop, seemed specially created 
for his peculiar calling ; a polite, garrulous 
Frenchman, and the most accomplished gossip 
in town. No modern extra Herald could beat 
him in gaining possession of the newest 
rumor, and it would take the most determined 



Knickerbocker Life. 103 

set of newsboys to disseminate it as expedi- 
tiously as he effected it through the various 
channels he had at command. The most 
mi^ciwlQ faux pas affecting the male or female, 
even the slightest suspicion of a surmise that 
came into his net, was served that evening at 
every tea-table of note in Gotham, and at a 
moderate cost — six and a quarter cents, with 
a clean shave thrown in gratis. Rumor has it 
that Louis Napoleon and the jolly French 
barber were on peculiarly intimate terms while 
the former was a sojourner here ; whether 
true or false, certain it is that when the Em- 
peror was firmly established on his throne, 
the mercurial scandal-monger folded his tent 
and flew away to the gay capital, where he 
had a more enlarged field and a grander patron 
for his unsurpassed talent. 

Directly opposite the barber shop, on the 
corner of Rector Street, and overshadowed by 
imposing Trinity, stood the original Grace 
Church, then as now the chosen shrine of the 
creme de la creme, among that portion of so- 
ciety who especially affect the imposing ritual 
of Episcopacy. Docor Wainwright was for 
many years its beloved pastor, than whom a 
more respected, genial. Christian gentleman 



I04 Last Days of 

never entered a New York pulpit. To attend 
service at Grace was eminently fashionable, 
although there were other places of worship in 
the city whose congregations could boast of 
an equal amount of wealth and beauty. Still, 
both young men and women fancied there was 
an air of quiet gentility in and about it not to 
be met with elsewhere. The worthy rector 
was a passionate lover of music, and prided 
himself not a little on his judgment of the 
divine art and on the nicety of his criticism. 
As would most naturally follow in the wake of a 
taste so decided, the impressive chants were 
given at Grace in a perfected style not equalled 
by any choir in the city, which, of course, had 
the effect of attracting many to its portals on 
each succeeding Sabbath, who by virtue of bap- 
tismal rites were looked upon as backsliders 
from the original fold into which they had been 
unconsciously borne in puling infancy. 

This state of affairs gave rise to no incon- 
siderable amount of comment, and some sore 
heart-burnings on the part of zealous Reformed 
Dutch parents and friends who still clung to 
the monstrous nasal psalmody, to endure which 
had become a part and parcel of their existence. 
Miss Emma Gillingham was the leading lady 



Knickerbocker Life. 105 

of the efficient choir, whose rich tones had 
been cultivated by Sconcia ; and she was not 
infrequently assisted by Charles E. Horn and 
Austin Phillips, two of the sweetest singers 
New York has ever heard. The aid afforded 
by these cultivated songsters was a powerful 
adjunct to the Doctor's polished efforts for 
the spread of Christianity, and Grace Church 
was always filled to its utmost capacity, while 
wealthy, pretentious Trinity, "the mother of 
us all," who in these feverish, exciting times still 
each day tries to soothe Wall Street with her 
mellow chimes, could fitly be compared to " a 
banquet hall deserted." It certainly was the 
unseen and spiritual which attracted, for the ex- 
terior of Old Grace presented nothing to com- 
mand attention even from " the stranger within 
our gates." A plain, square brick structure, 
with no turret, no steeple, not even the usual 
cross to designate its particular denomination, 
or to distinguish it from an overgrown school- 
house. At some period it had probably been 
painted white ; but long exposure had imparted 
to its walls a dingy yellow tinge that was far 
from agreeable to the eye. Nevertheless it 
was the church, and " I have attended Grace 
this morning," could not be uttered with a 



io6 Last Days of 

more satisfied air by a modern belle tricked out 
in all the furbelows of 1871, than the same sen- 
tence was spoken hundreds of times from be- 
neath bonnets one of which would make head- 
gear for the whole congregation of New Grace, 
if the gew-gaws with which they are orna- 
mented could by any means be dispensed with. 

Few of the thousands who daily passed in 
and out of our dilapidated crazy post-office, 
stopped to give one thought as to the past his- 
tory of the venerable pile. None had the lei- 
sure to make the enquiry, but should some stray 
visitor chance to pause and for a moment won- 
der for what special use it had originally been 
planned, he would have to tarry long before 
encountering one, in the eager, expectant 
throng of applicants for letters, who could 
give him a satisfactory reply to his queries. 

The Middle Dutch Church, then the Post- 
Office, was one of the oldest and most noted 
places of worship on Manhattan Island. For 
some years prior to its transfer to the Govern- 
ment the associate ministers in charge were 
Drs. Brownlee, Knox, and De Witt. The lat- 
ter alone remains of a trio the like of whom, all 
things considered, will never again be convened 
in this city. This old building was the last gath- 



:t^J^^i^-=^' t %4^ 








Knickerbocker Life. 107 

ering place of a class who represented the past 
in its hard, strict simplicity of worship, and was 
the connecting link between the old and new 
school in everything, religion not excepted. 
The masses in our midst have not the most 
remote idea of its quaint interior in former 
days. The entrance was from Cedar Street, 
and the pulpit occupied that end of the build- 
ing ; that is, the entire space between the two 
doors of admission. This pulpit, so far as 
dimensions are concerned, would answer the 
purpose of a modern reception room. It was 
reached from either side by a flight of at least 
a dozen carpeted steps ornamented by massive 
mahogany balusters. At the top of these stairs 
was a door through which the Dominie en- 
tered ; when that was closed after him, and the 
good man seated, he was most effectually 
hidden from mortal eyes. 

Over this pulpit was suspended what was 
called a sounding-board, a contrivance doubt- 
less intended to reverberate and re-echo the 
terrors of the law. A large square velvet 
cushion ornamented at each corner with heavy 
pendent tassels was the resting-place for the 
Bible. The pews were not modelled for ease, 
their straight, high backs and narrow seats were 



io8 Last Days of 

the ideal of discomfort ; a lounging posture 
was an impossibility. When mounted on the 
seat no one but a long-limbed man could touch 
the floor ; so the sufferings of women and chil- 
dren can be imagined. Bolt upright, eyes for- 
ward, and limbs dangling was the order, when 
once ensconced and the pew-door closed. 
Grandmother had a high cushion for her feet 
in warm weather, and a box made of wood and 
sheet iron, which contained live hickory coals, 
denominated a foot-stove, for winter, so the 
dear old lady was as comfortable as circum- 
stances would permit. We youngsters were 
often wicked enough to envy her these luxu- 
ries, and not infrequently had arguments with 
Betty with regard to this partiality, but were 
soon abashed by the firm declaration " that if 
we did n't stop talking so wicked the b'ars 
would ketch us sure," for, next to grandmother, 
Betty was authority in all spiritual as well as 
secular matters. 

On either side of the pulpit, in special pews, 
sat the elders and deacons, six of each order, 
with their assigned position so arranged that 
the whole congregation was under inspection. 
To the youthful, irreligious, unsophisticated 
attendant, these twelve men seemed the incar- 



Knickerbocker Life. 109 

nation of cold relentless piety divested of 
every human frailty. Of divers names, sizes, 
avocations, and degrees of intelligence, they 
appeared as they sat in their accustomed places 
to become as one man. When one rose they 
all stood up ; when one sat down all followed 
suit, as if acted upon simultaneously by an 
electric wire. Their black dress-coats seemed 
to have been made by the same tailor ; their 
white neck-cloths cut from one piece of cambric, 
washed, ironed, and folded by the same laun- 
dress, — the bow-knots even appeared to have 
been adjusted by the same hand ; while the 
same unearthly pallor and fixed expression 
characterized the faces of the twelve. When 
at length the minister rose, consulted his watch, 
placed his handkerchief under one side of the 
Bible, and had slyly slipped his notes from 
under his gown on to the Bible, the sermon 
began. Then came, at least in one sense, a 
positive relief. The twenty-four eyes of the 
twelve elders and deacons were raised as if by 
word of command, and for an hour at least 
were fixed seemingly without winking upon 
the dominie as he expounded his version of 
the Law. 

That protracted harangue afforded the op- 



no Last Days of 

portunity to scan these greatly-feared twelve 
with no probable risk of meeting one of their 
cold, fixed eyes. No ray of soul light could be 
detected on their countenances ; not even when 
the minister became so warmly eloquent as to 
cause woman's cheek to glow with sympathetic 
excitement. The torments of the bottomless 
pit proclaimed by the uncompromising Brown- 
lee ; the beatitude of the blest hopefully dwelt 
on by the gentle Knox ; the pressing invitation 
to repentance heralded in powerful tones by 
the more youthful and impulsive De Witt, were 
alike unavailing to produce the slightest varia- 
tion in the stereotyped countenances of these 
twelve leading dignitaries of the Middle Dutch 
Church. They sat as motionless as statues, 
rendered rigid by their sense of duty ; the top 
line of a copy-book was not more exact in its 
crosses and dots. Still, incomprehensible as it 
may seem, they were men, and gentle ones at 
that. Once out of their pews they mingled 
cheerfully with their fellows in social life ; 
grasped a brother's hand with a warm pressure, 
and their purse-strings were not tightly drawn 
when charity called for her tithes. 

If these indelible recollections should chance 
to meet the eye of any who in youth were led 



Knickerbocker Life. 1 1 1 

by their parents " like lambs to the slaughter" 
twice at least on each Sunday, to attend divine 
service at the Old Church, they cannot fail to 
recall the unspeakable feeling of relief they 
experienced when the stated exercises were 
ended, the joy with which they sprang to their 
feet to give ease to their almost paralyzed 
limbs, but above all, the happy relaxation of 
the mind when convinced that the terrible or- 
deal was passed. 

Another striking feature in the routine of 
service, which happily has passed away with 
the other stern realities of the times, was the 
singing at the Middle Dutch, for that formed 
no inconsiderable portion of the strain inflicted 
upon youthful nerves. The Middle Dutch 
had no organ, not that the congregation was 
too poor to indulge in such a luxury, for in 
truth it had the means at command to purchase, 
and pile tier upon tier the most costly ones 
Europe could furnish, but the appliance was 
registered by common consent as an invention 
of the arch enemy to distract mortals from the 
real essence of praise. In the vacant space 
under the elevated pulpit was placed a solitary 
chair, in front of which stood an ordinary 
table, upon which were ranged side by side a 



112 Last Days of 

hymn-book, a devotional Psalmody, and a tun- 
inor-fork — a small steel instrument used to 
pitch the desired key. This space was the ex- 
clusive domain of the chorister. 

The chorister of the Middle Dutch was a 
severely taxed functionary, as he was com- 
pelled to stand three times during each service 
facing the gaze of the entire congregation, 
and maintain a calm, stoical expression, which 
would have qualified him for the exalted posi- 
tion of elder had he not been compelled from 
the peculiar duties of his station to make some 
contortions of visage, so the matter of elder- 
ship was set at rest. Being the leader it was 
not in accordance with the dignity of his pro- 
fession to permit the wondrous organ of sound 
with which Nature had gifted him to be over- 
powered, or his personality to be for a single 
moment lost in the din created by a thousand 
enthusiastic warblers, each one of whom was 
straining every nerve with the determination 
to be heard at least on earth. Twelve stanzas 
and a doxology must have been a fearful tax 
even upon a man of his well-tested organs of 
respiration. For years he held this post of 
danger, apparently uninjured, defying alike 
bronchitis and consumption, for when grown 



Knickerbocker Life. 1 1 3 

gray at his post there was no apparent dim- 
inution of power or endurance. If Chorister 
Earl be still living (and there is no valid rea- 
son for the " taking off" of this iron-clad speci- 
men of the race), it was a marvel that he was 
not engaged to lead that concourse of sweet 
sounds which, a short time since, shook the 
foundation of Bunker Hill, and yet vibrate in 
the ears of the delighted Boston critics. Gil- 
more must be young and untravelled, not to 
have heard of Chorister Earl. 

Dominie, elders, deacons, chorister, tuning- 
fork and all, have passed under the swath of 
the " Scythe Bearer," and their descendants 
are carefully nestling in a white marble struc- 
ture of exquisite finish and beauty on the cor- 
ner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty-Ninth Street, 
surrounded by fashion and worldly pomp. In 
the modern Middle Dutch, smiling clergymen 
delight their listeners with short, well con- 
structed, moral essays ; smart, dapper elders 
and deacons, with beaming countenances, gay 
neckties, and jewelled shirt-fronts, are the ad- 
miration of the young. No chorister and tun- 
ing-fork, but in their stead a charming Prima 
Donna, sustained by a Tenore and Basso of 
acknowledged operatic reputation, is hidden 



114 Last Days of 

from public gaze by the rich curtains of the 
organ loft, whence she warbles with exquisite 
skill the choicest solos of modern art, while 
the new school reclines on velvet couches so 
enchanted by the performance that were it not 
for some vague, misty associations connected 
with the day and place, it would be acknowl- 
edged by the clapping of jewelled hands and a 
floral tribute. 

It is not very long ago, but since the epoch 
when modern improvements displaced the rigid 
formalities of the Dutch Church service, that 
a meeting for some specified object of religious 
interest was held on a Sunday evening in one 
of the most fashionable of our Presbyterian 
churches, celebrated not only for the eloquence 
of its pastor but for the brilliancy of its choir. 
Ministers of all denominations were invited to 
be present and participate in the exercises. 
Prominent among the clergy who were seated 
in the pulpit was a venerable divine, Rev. Dr. 
Samuel H. Cox, whose massive presence 
brought back the past with vivid minuteness. 
Age had dealt leniently with his imposing, 
Websterian outline, and his undimmed, sym- 
pathetic eye, demonstrated the deep interest 
he felt. He, however, took no active part 



Knickerbocker Life. 115 

until near the close, when, by request of the 
pastor, he rose to his feet, and spreading out 
his arms as if to include all in his heartfelt 
invitation, he enunciated in a deep, rich voice, 
that rang through the frescoed arches of the 
church, " Let us rise, and conclude this service 
of God, by singing to His praise the five hun- 
dred and sixty-second hymn, — ' Hark ! the 
Song of Jubilee.'" The almost inspired lay 
of Montgomery was felt and understood, as it 
was powerfully declaimed by that master mind. 
The effect of the appeal was electrical ; the 
peals of the organ were swallowed by that 
sounding song of praise. The old Knicker- 
bocker leaven had for the moment forced its 
way through the thin covering of fashionable 
conventionality. 

The old Middle Dutch bell still clangs as of 
yore ; not, however, to call sinners to repent 
and shun the fire of the hereafter, but to sum- 
mon the firemen of our city to do their secular 
duty in quelling some present and visible con- 
flagration. 

In the immediate vicinity of the old church 
there lived a man who was a well-known, eccen- 
tric character, but respected as a good and use- 
ful citizen. Grant Thorburn, the florist, might 



1 1 6 Last Days of 

be termed an extraordinary genius, with a per- 
sonal identity seldom encountered in the com- 
mon walks of life. His shuffling gait, the result 
of a malformation, made him always conspicuous 
even in a crowded thoroughfare, while his strict 
Quaker garb, of which sect he was a member, 
added to the grotesque outline of his short, un- 
prepossessing figure. Grant was continually 
on the street, bowing right and left to every 
one he chanced to meet ; but whether this 
peculiarity was the result of nervous sensibility, 
or, as some asserted, in a conceited idea of his 
own importance, matters little. He was a 
harmless busybody, and occupied much of his 
time by writing letters to the press, expressive 
of his views on any special topic which was at 
the time uppermost in public attention. Some 
of these literary effusions afforded much amuse- 
ment, as his sentiments were always expressed 
in unmeasured terms, but in the main were 
only on a par with similar displays of erratic 
minds who aim at achieving some kind of 
notoriety. 

Grant's individual business always appeared 
to be of secondary consideration with him. 
At any hour of the day he found leisure for a 
protracted chat, and was ever ready to listen 



Knickerbocker Life. 117 

to and frequently did embark heart and soul 
in the doubtful schemes of petty speculation 
which were then started with limited public 
support. But little by little they gained ground 
against the ruling prejudice of the day, until at 
length the "Mulberry Mania" became epi- 
demic, and for a considerable time was the 
engrossing topic not only in the city but for 
miles around. Pamphlets were circulated, de- 
tailing in figures that were never known to lie, 
the enormous profits which were sure to be the 
result of the intelligent culture of the Morzis 
Miilticaulis. Editorials on the fecundity of the 
silkworm were daily spun out in the blanket 
sheets ; farms, garden and city lots even, were 
transformed into nurseries. Shining silk w^as 
not yet, but was soon to be the universal cover- 
ing. Poor but serviceable cotton was spurned 
as the " makeshift " of a dark age, and the 
whole Knickerbocker tribe was at an early day 
to be arrayed in brocade. 

The contagion spread with such rapidity 
that hundreds of the old school, well-to-do, 
plodding men, abandoned their lifelong avoca- 
tions and invested every dollar they could rake 
and scrape, and even when that did not suffice, 
pledged their credit to its utmost tension to 



1 1 8 Last Days of 

secure controlling interest in this bubble. 
After creating a somewhat protracted excite- 
ment this expensive " hobby horse " was ridden 
to death. A few sharpers quietly sold out and 
withdrew, when the precious trees were selling 
at a penny per leaf, disposing of their interest 
to saving men, who, in turn, were soon too 
glad to accept the price of fire-wood for their 
bargains, when by the sudden reaction they 
found themselves involved in pecuniary ruin. 
Grant Thorburn, as will be surmised, was one 
of the first to embark in an enterprise, which 
from his occupation of agriculturist he would 
be supposed to comprehend. He entered 
largely into the work ; he planted widely on 
Long Island, and with his inflammable tempera- 
ment jumped in imagination from the silkworm 
to the loom ; to the full-stocked warehouse ; 
to fortune; but only to find himself so ham- 
pered by bills payable, as forever after to crip- 
ple his independence and materially to lessen 
his self-love. 

Grant lived to a ripe old age sustained by 
a pittance in the Custom House, but for many 
years kept a seed store, combined with a free 
gallery of engravings, in John Street, not far 
from Broadway, where the business is still con- 



K^iicker backer Life. 119 

ducted by his descendants. He wrote occasion- 
ally for the press, but the nature of his 
manifestoes was changed from the decided 
dictation and self-assertion so characteristic of 
his earlier efforts. 




CHAPTER V. 

** Eating-Houses" — Fulton Market — Thompson's — Clark 
and Brown's " English Chop-House " — St. George 
Cricket Club — The Auction Hotel — United States 
Hotel — Marine Telegraph — Downing's a political 
rendezvous — Harlem Railroad and the " great tun- 
nel " — Commodore Vanderbilt — George Law — Jacob 
Barker — Manhattan Company tea water — Oyster 
Houses — Windust — His theatrical patrons and col- 
lection of mementos — The elder Booth — Kean — 
Cooper — Tyrone Power — Manager Mitchell — Harry 
Placide — Delmonico's start — Delmonico's at Four- 
teenth Street — The Man of the World— Guerin — 
Palmo introduces Italian Opera and loses his fortune. 



EATING-HOUSES, now more politely 
termed restaurants, were limited in 
number, commonplace in appointments, and 
would not usually be thought of sufficient im- 
portance to warrant even a passing notice. 
But as they were the creations, so to speak, of 

1 20 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 121 

a foreign element in the city, they may be al- 
luded to collectively as one of the stepping- 
stones which cropped out as, by degrees, 
primitive Gotham gave way to metropolitan 
New York. They were established in the 
business portion of the city, and their patron- 
age was derived from the necessities they af- 
forded, and not, as is the case at present, from 
their gastronomical luxuries. Dinner was the 
meal upon which they depended, and the noon 
hour their harvest time. The clatter of dishes, 
the bustle of the hurrying waiters, the steam 
from the savory compounds, were perhaps ap- 
petizers to some. Chacun a son goiit ; but 
long abstinence was needed for a novice in 
such matters, before he could enjoy a repast 
served at one of our pioneer refreshment 
saloons. The curious in such affairs can have 
ocular, oral, and nasal experience by simply 
visiting one of the cellars now in full blast un- 
der Fulton Market. High noon is the precise 
time to see the cauldron bubble. The scene 
then to be witnessed on any week day is a 
counterpart of the earliest efforts of New York 
purveyors. Evening, or more properly, night 
customers were to most of them unknown. 
The one or two noted exceptions will be named 



12 2 LmsI Days of 

hereafter. Saloons were not the mode with 
gentlemen, and women would have endured 
the gnawings of hunger before venturing to 
enter the most retired one on the list. 

As late as 1835 James Thompson, a confec- 
tioner, opened a store at 171 Broadway, for the 
sale of cakes and other dainties, to accommo- 
date ladies who were engaged in shopping ; 
but for a long time this embryo Delmonico lan- 
guished in neglect, even though the sisters of 
the proprietor, middle-aged women, were the 
sole attendants, and it was situated on the most 
frequented portion of the promenade. Tempt- 
ing morceaux were displayed in the windows, 
but all in vain ; sideway glances were the only 
recognition vouchsafed them by dame or miss ; 
society ruled that it was not proper to enter 
and partake ; so the grandmothers and mothers 
of the present generation trudged home con- 
tent. It has been the rule for society to enact 
laws for its own government. Whether the 
Knickerbocker law, which has been superseded 
as being too stringent, was right or not will be 
fully demonstrated when the coming genera- 
tion reviews the conduct of their maternal an- 
cestors. " All 's well that ends well " is a truism 
to be duly considered by any class of society. 



Knickerbocker Life. 123 

Modesty, under old-fashioned rule, signified 
diffidence, purity, truth ; it shrank from public 
gaze, it moved in a quiet, unostentatious man- 
ner, and selected the humble but beautiful 
violet as its emblem. Its possessor was sur- 
rounded by unmistakable evidences of its real 
presence ; the delicate mantling of the cheek, 
the half-closed eyelid, the slightly stooping 
position, the noiseless, sliding step, the sub- 
dued tone could not be counterfeited by the 
most cunning art of the coquette. Man recog- 
nized it at a glance, and was ready " to avenge 
even a look that threatened it with insult." 
Chivalry is not dead, although the fact has 
been asserted with burning eloquence ; it has 
merely fallen into a condition of lethargy, as 
the primary object of its inspiration has as- 
sumed, under modern rule, to be her own 
champion, guide, and protector. Woman, old 
and young, sick and poor, beautiful or hideous, 
has chosen the responsibility of standing alone ; 
she has clipped one by one the clinging ten- 
drils of her nature, and with head erect and 
defiant step resolved to battle against the 
world. The finale of this new departure has 
been depicted in the past ; history will once 
more repeat itself. 



124 Last Days of 

The dining-room of Clark and Brown, one of 
the most extensive, was on Maiden Lane, near 
to its junction with Liberty Street. It was the 
resort of such who particularly delighted in 
roast beef very rare and cut in thick slices, or 
a beefsteak scarcely warmed through, English 
plum-pudding, and a mug of the best " half and 
half " in the city, brewed at Poughkeepsie or 
Philadelphia, but just for the name of the 
thing, "you know," called Burton Stock Ale. 
The peculiar mode of serving meats and the 
strong, black, London Dock brandy did not 
meet the approval of the uneducated Knicker- 
bocker stock, who had been reared on thor- 
oughly cooked food, and preferred made gravies 
to the pure red juice, so prominent an article 
in the John Bull creed. So the house became 
known as an English chop-house, and was in 
the main patronized by Yorkshiremen who 
were engaged temporarily in selling manufact- 
urers' consignments and remitting the proceeds 
in cotton or gold. Yorkshiremen have always 
been distinguished for their clannish tendency, 
and have ever been noted for their devotion to 
Old England, so they congregated at Clark and 
Brown's to enjoy the nearest approach to their 
native diet which the place of their exile 



Knickerbocker L zfe. 1 2 5 

afforded. They made it a species of Ex- 
change — met to talk over business, and, on the 
arrival of a packet, a rendezvous to commu- 
nicate news from home. 

It was at this hour that the nucleus of the 
St. George Cricket Club was formed, and from 
which the players started to participate in a 
game on their ground located on Broadway, 
where the magnificent Gilsey House now 
stands. The upper dining-room rang with 
boisterous merriment when on extraordinary 
occasions they convened to bid adieu to one 
of their countrymen, who, having arrived poor 
and a stranger, had succeeded, by the tact for 
which the race is so celebrated, in amassing an 
ample competency, and was on the eve of 
sailing from the inhospitable Yankee shore 
to spend his American gold at home. At 
these gatherings, the beef, the mutton, the 
pudding, the ale, the bread, the cheese, even 
the celery and salt, were pronounced inferior 
to the glorious fare so abundant at Huddersfield 
or Saddleworth. The "blarsted" country 
was awarded the accustomed sneers, and the 
lucky one who had secured his pile was warmly 
congratulated that his pilgrimage was ended. 
'* May we all be fortunate enough to follow 



126 Last Days of 

suit at an early day," was drank with all the 
honors. Buckley Bent, John Bradbury, John 
Taylor, William Bottomley, Samuel Lord, and 
a host besides who had miorated with but a 
beggarly amount of capital, have all returned 
to astonish cousins and gaping neighbors with 
their princely fortunes. 

The Auction Hotel, so christened on ac- 
count of its proximity to the stores of the well- 
known houses of John Haggerty and Sons, 
Wilmerding and Co., L. M. Hoffman, etc., was 
on Water Street near Wall. From its incep- 
tion it was strictly an American eating-house, 
and though dignified by the title of hotel it 
never rose above the proportions of a dining- 
hall. As such it became celebrated for its 
varied bill-of-fare, which included all the fa- 
vorite dishes then in vogue, and its highly 
prized home-made pies were temptingly dis- 
played on a long counter, already sliced for the 
customer who had no time to ask questions, 
barely sufficient to help himself, bolt the de- 
licious article, throw down his shilling, and 
rush out. George W. Brown was the proprie- 
tor, a worthy citizen, and it might be a slur on 
his memory to hint that in order to build up a 
prosperous trade he in any way forestalled the 



Knickerbocker Life. 127 

great American showman who gained a wide- 
spread reputation through his advertising 
dodges. 

Brown had been a merchant in the city but 
had failed (when suspension was not the light 
affair so easily arranged in one day), and 
rumor has it, resorted to this enterprise to 
build up his broken fortunes. So the story 
ran. Certain it is he was successful in accu- 
mulating a large amount of money, but the 
second chapter of this romance is narrated in 
glowing terms as follows : After a season of 
unprecedented success, he invited all his old 
business creditors to a sumptuous repast spread 
in an upper room of the " Auction." They all 
came, of course, and each was provided with a 
seat at the loaded table. As one after another 
unfolded the damask napkin placed before him 
by the polite host, a sealed envelop was dis- 
closed duly addressed, which when opened 
was found to contain a check for principal and 
interest of their respective claims. It matters 
little now whether the story be true or false ; it 
obtained credence at the time, and men flocked 
to spend their dollars with the honest landlord. 
The United States (then, perhaps, best 
known as "Holt's") Hotel, still standing on 



128 Last Days of 

the corner of Water and Fulton Streets, with 
the rear on Pearl Street, was a favorite dining 
place of the merchants of the neighborhood. 
It was likewise the chosen home of the cap- 
tains of Nantucket, New Bedford, Sag Har- 
bor, and New London whaling ships, who liked 
a run down to New York between their long 
hunting trips to the Pacific, before Pennsyl- 
vania oil wells sent their occupation to join 
Othello's in the limbo of nowhere. 

On the cupola of the Hotel was a sema- 
phore, known as the '* Marine Telegraph," 
which announced, by the varying positions of 
its arms, shaped like those of a windmill, the 
arrival of vessels in the bay. 

Downing's was another of the same class but 
of a different type. This once famous cellar 
was located at No. 5 Broad Street, and occu- 
pied the basements of two small buildings. 
Its proprietor was a negro, and his place was 
frequented by those who believed in the marked 
superiority of colored cooks. Oysters, always 
in great favor with New York epicures, Down- 
ing made a specialty, and these served with 
great care in the most approved styles, formed 
the leading article of his traffic and established 
his reputation. This unattractive cellar, so far 



Knickerbocker Life. 129 

as adornment was concerned, was more of a 
lounging place than the others named, from its 
close proximity to the Custom House, then 
running through from Pine Street to Cedar, 
finding ample accommodation within the limits 
of the medium-sized stores, the Merchants' 
Exchange, and the prominent banks. 

Leading politicians also made it headquar- 
ters, dropping in to have a chat while enjoying 
their half-dozen Saddle Rocks or Blue Points. 
Among others were Samuel Swartwout, the 
generous-hearted but unfortunate Collector of 
the Port; William M. Price, the hospitable j(nd 
learned District Attorney; Jonathan I.jCod- 
dington, afterwards Postmaster ; and Abmham 
R. Lawrence, President of the then embryo 
Harlem Railroad, running from Prince Street 
and the Bowery to Yorkville Hill, where its 
progress was stopped during the excavation of 
the then famous tunnel. How famous it was 
considered, the following, written at the time 
by a leading journalist, will testify : " This 
tunnel at Yorkville is said to be as spacious as 
any other excavation of solid rock made in 
modern times, not excepting the excavation of 
the Simplon by order of the Emperor Na- 
poleon, and the approach to it at both ends is 



130 Last Days of 

an object not less interesting than the tunnel 
itself. There is scarcely to be found more 
beautiful and picturesque scenery in any part 
of the world than the view Hell Gate and its 
surroundings present to the eye from the em- 
bankment north of the tunnel. This great 
work is still far from completion, though the 
energetic management of the Harlem Road are 
not sparing of their means, and their aim is to 
reach Harlem River at the earliest possible 
moment." 

This Harlem Road met its first check at 
Yorkville Hill ; that was indeed a hard one to 
overcome, but in time it bored its way through 
the rock and reached its original point of des- 
tination. Since then, however, it has met with 
far more depressing obstacles to its progress. 
In its early stage it became a favorite football 
in Wall Street, where its worthless stock was 
tossed about as a plaything, valueless as a se- 
curity in time of need. After George Law, 
Philo. Hurd, and heaven only knows who else, 
had run it deep into the mire of discredit, Com- 
modore Vanderbilt, by a series of manoeuvres, 
executed with fidelity by his man Friday, John 
M. Tobin, acquired possession of the wreck 
and has given it position among the leading 



Knickerbocker Life. 131 

roads of the country. It certainly did not look 
promising as an investment to those who in its 
early days walked up to Vauxhall Garden, op- 
posite where the Cooper Institute now stands, 
to witness the departure of a train for the re- 
mote region of Harlem. This train consisted 
of two elongated boxes mounted on tiny 
wheels propelled by a locomotive about as 
powerful as a modern tea-kettle at " full boil " ; 
the backing and filling required to compass the 
up-grade at the point now covered by Union 
Square was ridiculous in the extreme, for on 
a dead level the machine could easily have 
been distanced by the Commodore's trotters 
Mountain Boy, Myron Perry, or Daisy Burns. 
But enough of this digression. 

Bobby White, the rotund, cheerful Presi- 
dent of the Manhattan Co., which supplied us 
with tea water, at a penny per pail, from the 
great reservoir on Thirteenth Street near the 
Bowery ; Jacob Barker, Quaker, banker, broker, 
speculator in general ; James B. Glentworth, 
the pioneer of political pipe layers and Inspec- 
tor of Tobacco ; Fitz-Greene Halleck, book- 
keeper for John Jacob Astor, the author of 
*' Marco Bozzaris," " Fanny," etc., and the 
friend of Drake, Leggatt, and Bryant ; Wilmer- 



132 Last Days of 

ding and Jones, the witty auctioneers ; Gentle- 
man Jack Haggerty, George L. Pride, John H. 
Coster, Stephen Whitney, Ham Wilkes, and a 
host of other good men-about-town, found time 
amid their varied duties, schemes and pleasures 
to dive down the steep cellar steps to take a 
peep at Downing and have a few moments' 
cheerful chat. 

With such surroundings, Downing naturally 
became the medium of communication from 
one customer to another. The messages in 
the main were doubtless trivial and insignifi- 
cant ; but the fact invested him in the eyes of 
the public with no inconsiderable amount of 
importance, and by degrees it was whispered 
about that the oysterman had influence at 
the Custom House, Post-Office, and City Hall. 
These rumors had the effect of drawing many 
office-seekers to the cellar, who treated him 
with the marked respect usually bestowed on 
the power behind the throne. But it was 
lucky for Downing that in his day offices were 
few and patriots far less importunate than now ; 
the rumor would have been a malicious, practi- 
cal joke if he had been compelled to face the 
insatiate horde which at present besieges every 
minute crevice through which public pap can 
possibly ooze. 



Knickerbocker Life. 133 

Downing, after the lapse of years, became 
what was then called rich, but had the good 
sense to keep pace with progress, and not to al- 
low his quondam aristocratic associates to blind 
him with reference to his real position. Up to 
the termination of his career as caterer he was 
studiously civil and attentive to all classes of 
customers, and at a ripe old age he assigned his 
title " Prince of Saddle Rock," with " the tene- 
ments and hereditaments thereunto belonging," 
to his son George T. Downing, who on assum- 
ing the reigns of power attempted to mingle a 
sprinkling of politics with his unsurpassed bi- 
valves, and thereby illustrated the truth of the 
old proverb " that a little learning is a danger- 
ous thing." George did not graduate a Fred 
Douglas in his high-flown aspirations ; he was 
used some by the demagogues, but has always 
been compelled to mingle oyster-stews and 
politics together to eke out a subsistence. He 
migrates between Washington and Newport 
in the prosecution of his two-fold occupation, 
and had he chosen, like the wise cobbler, " to 
stick to his last," his substantial success would 
have been greater and his social position just 
about as elevated. 

Other "Oyster Houses" and "Oyster Cel- 
lars " abounded in the city, and were specially 



134 Last Days of 

plentiful in Canal Street, which in some way 
became associated in the popular mind with the 
idea of good oysters, and the proprietors of 
oyster houses in other neighborhoods sought 
to attract custom by displaying the sign " Oys- 
ters on the Canal Street Plan," until some ma- 
licious fellow was moved to tack on to the 
familiar phrase the uncomplimentary adden- 
dum, " cheap and nasty." 

The " oyster balloon," now a thing of the 
past, was displayed over nearly every one of 
these places. It was made of bright red mus- 
lin stretched over a g-lobular frame of rattan or 
wire and was illuminated at night by a candle 
placed within — the swinging crimson beacon 
serving to inform the hungry lover of the bi- 
valve where he might procure the humble 
"shilling stew" or the more expensive fry or 
roast. 

Edward Windust was the proprietor of a sa- 
loon which, so far as associations were con- 
cerned, had no competition in the city. Its 
location was in a basement on Park Row, only 
a few steps south of the Park Theatre. It 
was a theatrical rendezvous ; newspaper men, 
actors, artists, musicians, with that innumera- 
ble throng of needy admirers which always fol- 



Knickerbocker Life. 135 

lows in the wake of shiftless genius, made it 
for years their headquarters. Over the Park 
Row entrance to this cave, for by some tortu- 
ous winding it had an egress on Ann Street, 
there was displayed a sign bearing the motto 
'^ Nunquam non paratus,'' and inconsequence 
there were repeated applications by itinerant 
venders to interview either Mr. N. or Mr. P. ; 
be that however as it may, Windust was a host 
widely known, and his rooms each evening be- 
tween the acts and after the performance were 
filled with the wit and talent of the city. 
Ranged on one side of this underground resort 
was a tier of boxes or stalls, in each of which 
six could comfortably sit and partake of a well- 
prepared supper. Many a jovial party was ac- 
commodated in these nooks, and if the old 
partitions could be gifted with speech what 
riches of joke and repartee might be given to 
the world, which are now forever buried in 
oblivion. 

The walls of this sanctum were covered 
with reminiscences of the stage ; portraits of 
the great delineators of character and passion 
who have passed away, quaint old play-bills of 
an antediluvian age ; clippings of criticisms 
carefully preserved as mementos of misty tradi- 



1 36 Last Days of 

tions, contributed by some sock and buskin 
antiquary to perpetuate the memory of his own 
brief career ; the sword with which Garrick 
was supposed to have committed his histrionic 
murders amid the plaudits of thousands ; in 
fine, it was the actor's museum of New York. 
Cooper, Cooke, Edmund Kean, Junius Brutus 
Booth, the Wallacks, Tyrone Power, Thomas 
S. HambHn, Jack Scott, Harry Placide, Peter 
Richings, John Fisher, Mitchell, Brown, Billy 
Williams, and a host of other theatrical lights, 
with Park Benjamin, George P. Morris, N. 
P. Willis, Parke Godwin, Dr. Porter, Massett, 
Dr. Bartlett, of the Albio7i, McDonald Clarke, 
the crazy poet ; Price, the manager ; Jim Otis, 
Fitz-Greene Halleck, George A. Dwight, and 
their confreres of the pen, met here on mutual 
ground of good-fellowship, and over the foam- 
ing tankard nightly buried the hatchet, which 
always has and always will be flourished defi- 
antly by the antagonistic forces of the stage 
and press. 

Pages of recollections might be related of 
each night's sayings and doings at the " Nun- 
quam Non Paratus " ; how the erratic Booth 
and the fiery Kean had ensconced themselves 
in one of the boxes and indulged in wild de- 



Knickerbocker Life. 137 

bauch during their joint engagement at the 
Park, to the inexpressible agony of the mild 
Simpson, who, like the matronly hen, clucked 
frantically at nightfall in search of the pets, 
that he might gather them in ; but how they 
would not be gathered in until the landlord's 
score was liquidated, which the frightened 
manager was only too glad to do, as it was 
near the hour for the curtain to rise, and the 
great Othello and lago would require the in- 
termediate time to be cooled off sufficiently, so 
as not to travesty the tragic master-piece into 
a ridiculous farce ; — how Jack Scott, with his 
broad chest expanded, his eyes rolling with 
melodramatic frenzy, his ample shirt-collar 
unbuttoned to afford full play to his massive 
throat, raved at the scared critic who had 
dared to assert that Edwin Forrest ever had 
or ever could have an equal ; how Tom Ham- 
blin tossed his flowing locks when declaiming, 
in ecstatic tones, the glorious qualities of the 
gifted Josephine Clifton ; how Hilson raised a 
roar by merely hoping " he did not intrude," 
as he awoke Charles Kemble Mason from his 
reverie on the majestic Fanny Kemble ; — how 
Robert Macaire Brown and Jacques Strop 
Williams relieved Manager Mitchell of the 



138 Last Days of 

original manuscript of the " Savage and the 
Maiden " ; how Manager Price buzzed the ears 
of the critics with laudations of the great Ves- 
tris, and how carefully the wily Stager avoided 
the slightest approach to the age of that 
famous octogenarian who could sing " I am 
si-i-hix-hix-ty-two," as if it were not so at all ; 
how Harry Placide would gloat over the ever- 
varying humor of Mrs. Vernon, and affirm the 
Fisher family to be all prodigies, including the 
youthful Clara, the "spoiled child" of the day; 
— but these Jiows come so thick and fast that 
the reader will forget the eating-house of 
Gotham. 

Windust waxed rich, but as the money 
flowed into his treasury he became restless 
with his confined limits, and, like most mortals, 
he craved a wider sphere of action, and about 
1836 opened the Athenaeum Hotel, on the 
corner of Broadway and Leonard Street. 
This experiment lasted only for a time ; it 
gradually dwindled until Windust was too glad 
to return to the place where his reputation was 
established, but only to find its prestige gone. 

The cafe of the time was a very humble af- 
fair, still its existence was an evidence of growth 
and expansion. It affirmed that the European 







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.-.■.■( 


T 


A, 





l: 



JUNIUS BRUTUS BOOTH. 



Knickerbocker Life. 139 

Continental element was becoming sufficiently 
important to demand its introduction, and by 
an unfailing law the supply was at hand. 
French and Italian citizens were few in num- 
ber, so the consumption of cafe noir was 
very limited, and the enterprising men who 
had embarked in the business were compelled 
to add the sale of candies and cakes to meet 
the moderate expenses thus incurred. 

Delmonico and Guerin, so far as memory 
serves, were the pioneers in this peculiar branch 
of industry. Both were industrious, frugal, 
persevering men, professed cooks and confec- 
tioners, thus fully competent to meet any ex- 
igency and to profit by their skill. 

The descendants and successors of Delmon- 
ico now occupy four costly and conspicuous 
buildings in the city, furnished with all the ap- 
pliances that modern art can invent to pander 
to the luxurious taste of the time ; and one of 
them, the corner of Fifth Avenue and Four- 
teenth Street, is, beyond all question, the most 
palatial cafe, or restaurant on this continent. 
The stream of fashion which flows throuofh its 
spacious apartments from morning until night, 
or rather, from morning until morning, amply 
demonstrates the source of the immense rev- 



140 Last Days of 

enue required to move its intricate and expen- 
sive machinery. To lunch, dine, or sup at 
Delmonico's is the crowning ambition of those 
who aspire to notoriety, and no better place 
for study of character does the city afford than 
that expensive resort at almost any hour of the 
day. The indulgence of the whim may be de- 
pleting to a moderate purse, but the panorama 
once seen and carefully inspected in all its 
lights and shades will amply repay for the out- 
lay of money, and the time will not be misspent. 
On entering from Fourteenth Street one can- 
not fail to be impressed by the absence of bustle 
and confusion, no boisterous commands are 
heard, and the waiters glide about as noise- 
lessly as ghosts. An air of luxury surrounds 
you as the attentive garfon stands motion- 
less before you, and respectfully awaits your 
wishes. 

The order once given, you have ample time 
to survey the scene. At the adjoining table is 
seated a gray-haired, soft-treading gourmand, 
who eloats over his carte as if ** life and 
death were in the scroll," and everything de- 
pended upon the selection he was about to 
make. Farther on is seen a fresh-fledged mil- 
lionaire, who furtively glances about him as if 



Knickerbocker Life. 141 

in dread lest some old acquaintance may see 
him, or that some new-made friend should not, 
as he points to his order for the highest priced 
item on the list, having no remote idea what 
compound will be placed before him, only- 
knowing that the figure in the margin is large ; 
and he awaits, with all the sang-froid he can 
summon, the result of his venture, but resolved 
to attack it no matter in what shape it may 
appear. Opposite to this ambitious Courtlandt 
Street graduate lounges a puffy dowager, 
crowded into the nearest approach to shape by 
her dressmaker. The much dressed dame is 
perspiring at every pore, with the dread lest 
some stay prove ineffective to longer resist- 
ance ; while beside her sits what, by universal 
consent, is called the " Belle of the Period." 
To describe one would be to describe the class, 
but the mere idea is ridiculous : to use an in- 
elegant but expressive Yankee phrase, " the 
thing can't be did," for man has failed in every 
attempt to compass the portraiture of the non- 
descript. A woman of raw talent might par- 
tially succeed, but the inference is that even 
Fanny Fern would be convinced that her ex- 
perience and facile pen were both inadequate 
to the task, and would be driven to woman's 



142 Last Days of 

dernier ressort, a postscript ; i. c, for further 
particulars the reader is referred to a personal 
inspection of this unnatural curiosity. 

Nast can caricature men with tremendous 
effect, but all the shafts he has hurled at the 
modern city belle fall pointless ; her make-up 
defies ridicule, it " out-Herods Herod." In 
close proximity to the city belle are seated two 
fresh-looking demoiselles, who evidently like 
yourself are strangers to the scene, and are so 
absorbed in scrutinizing what has so much 
puzzled your brain that they have apparently 
forgotten themselves, for their lunch remains 
untouched before them, while their eyes are 
riveted upon her as if counting each stitch in 
the innumerable array of frills, flounces, and 
tucks prescribed by fashion. So there is no 
danger of detection by indulging in a some- 
what minute comparison. These country 
girls, evidently of no mean pretensions, have 
chignons of considerable proportions, but 
they are mites when compared with the. pilliojt 
of their city sister ; their plentiful display of 
French jewelry pales before her varied assort- 
ment of flashing gems ; air and exercise have 
tinted their cheeks with a delicate glow of 
health — high art has enamelled her face with 



Knickerbocker Life. 143 

the choicest mineral shade ; their eyes are 
sparkling with a natural lustre — restless dis- 
sipation has given her a cold, stolid stare, 
satiety and ennui in every outline and every 
movement. Yet, strange to relate, when these 
country lassies had completed the critical 
analysis of this highly finished model of 
fashion, and their eyes fell upon their own 
neat but scanty embellishments, a half morti- 
fied expression of envious discontent spread 
over their innocent faces ; they hurriedly 
applied themselves in silence to their lunch, 
and modestly withdrew as if dazzled by this un- 
accustomed glare. Woman is verily a puzzle. 
At another table is a party of prinked-up 
young men, a collection of gaudy neckties, 
flash jewelry, and vapid pretense. These 
pride themselves on being fast, while in fact 
they are the dullest and slowest of mortals ; 
and were it not for the amusement afforded 
by their ridiculous costumes, antics, and grim- 
aces, they would be hooted at by every true 
man and woman. This adjective fast has 
been taken up by Young America, female as 
well as male, and is used by them in lieu of 
the old-fashioned phrase " man of the world," 
which had and still has a deep, decided sig- 



144 Last Days of 

nificance, and no upstart parvenu can for a 
moment disguise himself so as to escape de- 
tection. The title, "man of the world," 
implies intellect, cultivation, grace of person, 
ease of manner, gentleness of tone, perfect 
self-control ; in fine, a character so decided 
and so evenly balanced as never to be ruffled 
by petty crosses and annoyances. The dress 
of the man of the world is invariably suited 
to each occasion ; he follows the style, but 
never leads it ; it is perfect in its complete- 
ness, nothing striking in detail, everything 
'* comme il faut.'' His address, especially in 
the presence of ladies, although entirely free 
from awkward restraint, is characterized by 
modest repose ; in conversation he eschews 
the personal pronoun, and perfectly under- 
stands when to lead, when to be led. How 
and in what respect, those noisy, fast society 
men, who are seated at that table, are entitled 
to the distinction they claim, they themselves 
must determine ; that they are recklessly fast 
in squandering time, opportunity, and means, 
no one will deny, — they certainly are very far 
from being Chesterfields or D'Orsays. 

The gambler's well-filled purse and politic 
lavish expenditure insure his welcome in these 



Knickerbocker Life. 145 

halls of fashion. His smiling face is known to 
all and his careless nods of recognition are 
returned from right and left as he leisurely 
saunters to his accustomed seat. His diamond 
is matchless for purity and size, his horses are 
unequalled on the turf or drive, and so forsooth 
he is recognized by society. The lawyer seeks 
him for his client, the physician is prompt in 
attendance at his call, the tradesman bustles 
at his nod, and the politican courts his powerful 
influence, — in his case all antecedents are 
ignored. 

But it is needless to catalogue the scenes 
at Delmonico's in 1870, its frescoed ceilings, 
mirrored halls, and sumptuous appointments 
are too familiar to warrant description. The 
thousands who go there to see, and the tens of 
thousands who are straining every nerve to 
be seen there, may possibly be more interested 
by a brief outline of Delmonico's, as estab- 
lished during the last day's of Knickerbocker 
regime. In a small store on William Street, 
between Fulton and Ann, directly opposite 
the North Dutch Church the now metropoli- 
tan name first became known to New Yorkers. 
The little place contained some half-dozen 
pine tables with requisite wooden chairs to 



1 46 Last Days of 

match, and on a board counter covered with 
white napkins was ranged the limited assort- 
ment of pastry. Two-tine forks and buck- 
handled knives were not considered vulgar 
then, neither were common earthenware cups 
and plates inadmissible. As a matter of 
course the first custom was derived from the 
foreign element, attracted by the filets, ma- 
caroni, cafe, chocolat, and petit verre. These 
were duly served by the chef in person, who, 
with white paper cap and apron, was only too 
glad to officiate as his own gargon. 

By slow stages the courteous manner of 
the host, coupled with his delicious dishes 
and moderate charges, attracted the attention, 
tickled the palate, and suited the pockets 
of some of the Knickerbocker youths, who 
at once acknowledged the superiority of the 
French and Italian cuisine as expounded 
and set forth by Delmonico. It must not, 
however, for a moment be thought, that the 
new converts from the plain roasted and 
boiled doctrine to the new rich gravy faith, 
plunged at once into the vortex of the elaborate 
and expensive spread, now every-day affairs at 
Fifth Avenue. By no means was such the 
case ; their visits were at wide intervals and 



Knickerbocker Life. 147 

mostly confined to Saturday afternoons, when 
the good folks were almost certain to be at 
home laying out their Sunday clothes. Two 
or three would agree to meet at the Cafe for 
the purpose of indulging in a light French 
entertainment. On these occasions unusual 
secrecy was indispensable, for if detected we 
were certain to incur the marked displeasure 
of our grandmother, and to be soundly berated 
in the first place for our foolish extravagance, 
and secondly, pitied for our lack of taste by 
giving preference to "such vile greasy com- 
pounds," which we were assured would destroy 
our stomachs ; while if we dared to mention 
the cool, refreshing " vifi ordinaire^' that de- 
lightful beverage was denounced as a miserable 
substitute for vinegar. 

Still, in spite of the well-meant warnings we 
repeated our visits whenever we could do so 
with safety, and were warranted by our limited 
supply of " pocket-money " ; and yet further, 
with what our old fogy ancestors would have 
pronounced unprincipled influence, we inducted 
others into the secret that good things to eat 
could be had at the cook-shop on William 
Street. Gradually, the little shop had not the 
requisite space to accommodate its increasing 



148 Last Days of 

patronage, and Delmonico, instead of following 
the stream that pointed up-town, wisely re- 
moved his business still further down in the 
centre of the wholesale traffic before the disas- 
trous conflagration of '35. When after a time 
that direful calamity was surmounted, he built 
the restaurant still standing on the corner of 
William and Beaver Streets, in which the 
brothers with their sons and nephews accumu- 
lated fortunes, and from which sprang the 
branches now so flourishing on the thorough- 
fares of New York. 

Francis Guerin, a native of France and a 
cotemporary of the original Delmonico, opened 
his cafe on Broadway, between Pine and Cedar 
Streets, directly opposite the City Hotel, 
then the most busy portion of the leading 
thoroughfare. Keenly alive to the accumula- 
tion of dollars he ornamented his show windows 
to attract the attention of promenaders and 
stragglers who continually passed to and fro 
before his shop. His display consisted of im- 
ported and domestic confectionery, inviting 
specimens of pastry and cake, bottles of choice 
French cordials, fancy boxes filled with Parisian 
bon-bons interspersed with the fruits then in 
market. Inside, the shelves were lined with 



Knickerbocker Life. 149 

preserves in sugar and brandy while on a long 
counter, which reached from end to end, were 
spread the tarts and confections for which the 
place was noted until a very short time ago. 
From its location and limited dimensions this 
place was never, strictly speaking, a cafe or 
restaurant ; sandwiches, sardines, and the 
sweets mentioned constituted the daily bill-of- 
fare, although at the rear of the store a small 
apartment was furnished with table and chairs, 
where coffee, chocolate, and, in summer, ice- 
cream, were served ; but it was at best a dingy 
place, and as it had no entrance except through 
the store, it was but little frequented, and never 
by ladies. 

After a limited period the pie and cake 
counter was curtailed and the confectionery 
department became merely ornamental, except 
during the holiday season, to make space for 
the bar, which was lengthened and widened 
at the expense of the other branches, — for the 
retailing of liquors grew into the prominent 
feature of the business. Essentially it degen- 
erated into a cosmopolitan drinking-saloon, 
where Americans rushed for their hurried nip 
of brandy-and- water, Frenchmen sauntered 
about sipping absinthe and orgeat, Italians 



1 50 Last Days of 

smacked their lips over a thimbleful of maras- 
chino, — for all nationalities claimed to find at 
Pere Guerin's their favorite beverage in perfec- 
tion. From this trade a fortune was soon 
realized, but the proprietor had no ambition 
for display and very little love for even cleanli- 
ness ; he spent nothing in repairs or renovation, 
and the old place became dingy through neg- 
lect, though it continued in the hands of a 
successor to drive a brisk trade until two or 
three years ago, when its site was required for 
more remunerative improvements, and it was 
demolished, " leaving no trace behind." 

Delmonico and Guerin, though starting si- 
multaneously in the same business, and though 
both were successful in amassing wealth, 
were, as proved by results, very different men 
in temperament and design. The former 
a generous, enterprising Italian, while he 
adhered strictly to his original plan, enlarged 
and improved when warranted by the demand 
and the growth of the city. A social host, his 
ambition was to please the public, and to out- 
strip competition by a lavish yet judicious ex- 
penditure. He rose from the obscurity of a 
petty shop and lived to have his name known 
everywhere, at home and abroad. The latter, 



Knickerbocker L ife. 151 

a Frenchman of penurious tendencies, with no 
personal ambition, stuck to his shop, accumu- 
lated an immense estate, but so far as the public 
knows has left no record to tell when or how 
he had lived and died. The old sign " Francis 
Guerin, Confectioner," has been swept away. 

Another noted place of resort was the " Cafe 
des Mille Colonnes " (so called after the once 
famous Parisian cafe of the same name), 
located on the west side of Broadway, a 
few doors above Duane Street. It was kept 
by Signor Palmo, a genial, wiry, olive-skinned 
little Italian gentleman, and was much fre- 
quented by his countrymen and by Frenchmen 
who might be seen there of an evening, playing 
dominoes on the marble tables and consuming 
chocolate, ices, and the beloved " eau sucree" 
as well as more stimulating beverages ; but the 
insinuating and deadly absinthe had not the 
vogue it has unfortunately since attained. 

The place opened directly from the street, 
and the walls were covered with long mirrors, 
which reflected, in an apparently endless vista, 
the gilded columns that supported the ceil- 
^"g- Signor Palmo accumulated a comfortable 
fortune for those days, but lost it in an en- 
deavor to naturalize Italian Opera in the 



152 Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 

United States, opening at " Palmo's Opera 
House" (in Chambers Street between Centre 
Street and Broadway), which afterward be- 
came Burton's Theatre. 

He opened a small restaurant in Cedar 
Street, serving spaghetti most artistically pre- 
pared ; and thin claret, at a moderate price — 
his clientele being largely composed of members 
of the chorus when Italian opera flourished (or 
failed to flourish) at the Astor Place Opera 
House. Subsequently, being an excellent 
cook, he was the cordon bleu of "Charley 
Abel's " restaurant in Broadway, near Broome 
Street, finally dying in poverty. 




CHAPTER VI. 



The promenade — Its limits — How the young men adorned 
themselves — The attire of young women — The bonnet 
of the day — The conventional bride and groom a 
study in black and white — Contoit's garden enter- 
tainment at small cost — Trade drives residents from 
Broadway — Door-plates of distinguished citizens — A 
mistaken purchase of land — Columbia College — New 
York Hospital — John Anderson's cigar shop and 
Mary Rogers — St. John's Park — Contiguous residents 
— Samuel H. Cox, D.D. — His powerful eloquence — 
Again on Broadway — Its "characters" — The mad 
poet — The Ginger-Bread Man — The Lime-Kiln Man 
— His strange death — Dandy Cox and his turnout. 

THE promenade was Broadway, the ex- 
tremes being Bleecker Street and the 
Battery. Though the bustle was great in 
proportion to the population, it was a quiet 
lane in comparison with our surging thorough- 
fare bounded by the same limits. The sites 
now covered with costly piles of marble or 

153 



154 Last Days of 

granite, ornamented in the highest style of art, 
were occupied by modest three-story brick 
buildings, whose only adornment consisted of 
bright green blinds, with shining brass knock- 
ers and door-plates. Many of them below 
Park Place had been converted into retail 
stores or shops for fashionable tradesmen. 
Broadway was becoming prominent for its 
styles and prices, and the beau of the day was 
not properly attired who did not patronize 
these self-appointed dictators of fashion. 
Wheeler, Tryon and Derby, Brundage, or El- 
mendorf must furnish his clothes ; his boots 
must be manufactured by Kimball and Rogers, 
a St. John hat was indispensable, and his satin 
stock was far from being '' Ike thz7tg'' unless 
obtained at the furnishing store of Clark and 
Saxton. As a natural sequence, the young 
men who aspired to be considered as sans 
reproche in their toilets became mere tailors' 
blocks, as they were dressed in such uniformity 
of style, as effectually to destroy all individu- 
ality. From the prescribed style no departure 
was permitted, the tall and thin, the short 
and stout were forced to don V habit cie mode. 
No matter how unbecoming or uncomfortable, 
there was no redress. 



Knickerbocker Life. 155 

Black was the prevailing color ; it was worn 
for promenade, parlor, church, ball, business — 
in fact, every man who pretended to dress, 
dressed in " the inky habiliments of woe." 
No gentleman considered himself, or was con- 
sidered by others, duly presentable who was 
not attired in a high, black beaver — not one 
of our modern, light, shining silk affairs, but 
a heavy, long-napped, broad-brimmed, bell- 
crowned hat, which pressed like a vise on the 
head ; a broad, black satin stock, so wide and 
unyielding that the ground could only be seen 
three paces to the front, a species of military 
invention to enforce the order, " heads up" ; a 
sharp-pointed, standing shirt-collar, in design 
not unlike the cutwater of a steamboat — no 
girl could kiss the wretched wearer without 
endangering her eyesight — and so large as to 
half conceal the beardless face of the man ; a 
black frock coat, a marvel of disproportion 
and discomfort, short-waisted, narrow-chested, 
long, narrow skirts, with sleeves so tight as 
seriously to impede circulation, and to render 
bursting imminent should the dashing young 
man have occasion to use his arms ; black 
pantaloons, tight to the skin, and so securely 
fastened by straps beneath the boot as to en- 



156 Last Days of 

tirely destroy the free action of the knee for 
the purpose of easy locomotion ; a prolonged 
sitting posture, when encased in these inex- 
pressibles, was equal to a slight attack of 
paralysis. This discomfort was materially en- 
hanced by a pair of Kimball's boots, high- 
heeled, narrow, and pointed, which were only 
got into after a deal of labor, assisted by boot- 
hooks and soap. Black gloves and a black 
cane about completed the costume of the 
tortured exquisite, who imagined himself an 
Adonis. 

These primitive dandies were deprived of 
one great source of pleasure enjoyed by the 
young men of to-day, i. e., they could not laugh 
at each other's folly, or criticise each other's 
lack of taste — they were all "black crows" — 
all were in straight jackets, but all were 
harmless members of society. 

The belle was a little less restricted in the 
selection of color, but not a whit in the pre- 
scribed style, and was permitted small scope 
for the display of youthful charms, especially 
on the promenade. The conventional bonnet 
was so hideous a contrivance in size and shape 
that " the old woman who rode on the broom " 
adopted it at sight, and a look at one of " the 



Knickerbocker Life. 157 

frightful things " would cause a shudder to 
pass through the delicate frame of a modern 
demoiselle. In shape, this monstrosity was 
not unlike a coal-skuttle, and was usually 
trimmed with a full-blown peony or a prodig- 
ious bunch of roses displayed on its ample 
crown. This grand affair was a most effective 
bar to anything approaching to a side glance 
en passant ; far more effective than a gig 
top, for the latter could be lowered at will, 
while the former, when once adjusted, was a 
stationary fixture. 

The antiquated, solemn appearance imparted 
by this hat was materially aided by the plain 
cloak or shawl which hung rag-like and un- 
adorned from the shoulders of the fair wearer, 
and which completely concealed any charm of 
figure or grace of outline which the timid 
maiden might possess ; while a plain, untrimmed 
skirt, reaching only to the ankle, left unhid 
hose of spotless white, but, at the same time, 
did not hide from view a heelless, flat " slipper," 
kept in place by black strings wound around the 
ankle, durable, no doubt, but certainly not fasci- 
nating to the eye. A parasol, edged with deep, 
heavy silk fringe, and topped with ponderous, 
carved ivory handle, was always en regie ; and 



158 Last Days of 

a bag of gay-colored silk or velvet, embroidered 
with beads, and having the capacity of a mod- 
ern travelling satchel, was indispensable for 
full dress. The main piece de resistance, how- 
ever, was the handkerchief. This all-impor- 
tant article was, as a rule, bordered with lace, 
the quality of which was supposed to definitely 
fix the financial status of the family ; and that 
its full glory might be displayed, it was carried 
by its exact centre between the forefinger and 
thumb, so that no speck of its size or jot of its 
value should be lost to the world. 

The appearance of a bride on Broadway 
was a special relief from the monotony which 
characterized the otherwise humdrum prome- 
nade. As a matter of course the headgear of 
the bride was a la mode, so far as shape and 
dimensions were concerned, but the thing was 
made of gorgeous white satin, and the high 
steeple crown was festooned with orange blos- 
soms, and from the peak of the monstrosity 
was suspended a white veil of blond lace 
which nearly touched the ground, and so capa- 
cious in width as to envelop the fair one in 
its folds. The culmination was in the pearl 
brocade dress, which apparently contained 
sufficient material for the construction of half 



Knickerbocker Life. 159 

a dozen modern robes ; the sleeves were poet- 
ically styled "leg of mutton," which, when 
filled out by the interior appliances, which 
mean little brothers affirmed were composed 
of " live geese feathers," imparted a fearful 
breadth of shoulder. The waist, or "bodice," 
as it was then styled, looked as stiff and un- 
comfortable as steel and whalebone could make 
it, while the skirt was gathered on the waist to 
act as balance or equivalent for the bonnet and 
sleeves. A massive gold chain was coiled 
around the neck, having a pendant of sufficient 
length to secure a gold chronometer, which 
was slipped into the belt, the latter being 
secured in front by a buckle of magnificent 
proportions. This conventional bride, all in 
white, with this conventional groom all in 
black, were interesting sights on Broadway 
when New York was forty years younger than 
to-day. 

Before taking leave of these belles and 
beaux, it is appropriate to briefly notice a place 
of resort during summer afternoons, which was 
considered not only fashionable, but eminently 
proper for them to patronize, into which they 
could boldly enter, sit down, and partake with- 
out fear of criticism. The New York Garden, 



1 60 Last Days of 

Contoit, proprietor, was on the west side of 
Broadway, between Leonard and Franklin 
Streets. This garden was a long, narrow plot, 
so densely shaded that no ray of sunlight could 
penetrate it, and on that account should have 
been patented as a refrigerator, for it often 
was too delightfully cool for health, and so 
dark that, on the approach of evening shades, 
the gloom was rendered more palpable by in- 
numerable small glass globes, filled with sperm 
oil, in each of which floated a minute taper ; 
these were suspended on the lower branches 
of the trees, and when duly lighted emitted an 
effulgence about equal to the same number of 
June bugs. On either side of the walk was 
ranged a tier of neatly white-and-green-washed 
boxes ; a board table ran through the centre 
of each of these tiny cubby-holes, with seats 
to accommodate about four persons, but if 
very intimate friends, six could in an emergency 
squeeze in and manage after a fashion. Colored 
waiters, with white jackets and aprons, bustled 
hither and thither, as only excited darkies can 
bustle, supplying the eager crowd with vanilla 
or lemon ice-cream, pound cake, or lemonade, 
then comprising the dainties to which the 
belles were restricted. This being a fixed un- 





• frrp) iz''^] ^'"''- Jmm 




!-dtJ -im) iim 




^ f p^i s^ tt^ 







\mmimm 






Kiiickerbocker Life. i6i 

alterable fact, a young man of the period with 
three shillings in his pocket could invite a fair 
friend to enter the enclosure, to be seated in a 
box, and give her order without fear of dis- 
comfiture, for he knew his capital was fully 
equal to the emergency. 

One saucer oi Contoit's cream was ample to 
satisfy the cravings of an ordinary appetite, as 
the quantity was materially greater than could 
possibly have been afforded with more costly 
surroundings. An uncovered board for a table, 
overspreading branches in place of frescoed ceil- 
ings, a plank instead of a walnut lounge, a 
chipped earthenware saucer, and a black pewter 
spoon did not involve enormous outlay, so the 
proprietor could afford, when milk and sugar 
were much cheaper than now, to serve for a 
shilling a heaping allowance of either vanilla 
or lemon ; while sixpence was all he demanded 
for a good-sized slice of pound cake — not over 
rich to be sure — and no charge was made for 
attendance or for the tumbler of pure Manhat- 
tan spring water. Eighteen pence, under these 
circumstances, was ample ; the man with thou- 
sands at command could do no more. Contoit's 
garden was on the temperance plan ; no bar 
was to be seen, no liquor publicly sold ; but 



1 62 Last Days of 

there was " a wheel within a wheel," even 
there ; and a quarter slyly dropped into a sable 
palm would ensure a moderate supply of cognac 
to be poured over the lemon ice, which gentle- 
men almost always preferred to the more lus- 
cious vanilla, to the great surprise of their fair 
companions, who frequented fhis place by the 
consent of their watchful parents and guardi- 
ans. The manoeuvres to elude detection were 
sometimes ludicrous in the extreme. Time has, 
however, removed the ban of secrecy ; garden, 
proprietor, parents, guardians have all passed 
away, and the girls, grown older, have become 
too well accustomed to modern usages to in- 
dulge in any upbraidings at this late day. 

It has been mentioned that private residents 
were being fast driven from Broadway to make 
room for the retail trade. Cedar and Liberty 
Streets, east of the thoroughfare, with Maiden 
Lane, John and Fulton Streets, were wholly 
given up to business purposes, and the houses 
on Cortlandt and Dey Streets were mostly 
occupied as boarding-houses of a second class. 
A charming breathing-place was the campus of 
Columbia College, surrounded by the college 
buildings and with them occupying the block 
bounded by College Place, Barclay, Murray, 



Knickerbocker Life. 163 

and Church Streets ; and though its academic 
groves could not vie in antiquity and interest- 
ingr historical associations with those of the 
Cam and I sis, there was many a regretful sigh 
among the graybeards whose studies and sports 
had been pursued there when the home of their 
alma mater, " Old Columbia," was swallowed 
by the relentless maw of trade and she was 
forced to seek new shelter in northern wilds 
beyond the " Bowerie." 

Park Place, Barclay, Murray, Warren, Cham- 
bers, and Beekman Streets were tenanted by 
some of the oldest and best families. On the 
door-plates were seen such names as Bayard, 
Cruger, Allen, Brown, Lee, Clinton, Lawrence, 
Paulding, Ten Eyck, De Peyster, Van Cort- 
landt, Duane, Beekman, Graham, etc., whose 
descendants are among our most honored citi- 
zens. They were merchants who laid the 
foundations upon which we are now rearing 
our magnificent structure, and belonged to the 
class of men eulogized by Henry, Earl of 
Northampton, when he so eloquently said: 
" The merchant is a state and degree of per- 
sons, not only to be respected, but to be prayed 
for. They are the convoys of our supplies, 
the vents of our abundance, Neptune's almon- 



164 Last Days of 

ers and fortune's adventurers." Some of this 
class had the enterprise to remove still farther 
from the business portion of the city, and built 
themselves homes on Franklin, Leonard, and 
White Streets to make doubly sure that their 
seclusion would not be invaded by bustle and 
confusion. One old gentleman who loved his 
quiet was a long" time undecided whether to 
select a plot on Broadway, or on Walker's 
Lane near Chapel Street — the prices of both 
were the same — but after due deliberation he 
fixed upon the latter, for the avowed reason 
that the Post Road would always be dusty and 
noisy. Both spots are dusty now, but unfor- 
tunately for his heirs-at-law the Post-Road lots 
are worth dollars while his deliberate choice 
would not realize cents in comparison. 

On Broadway between Duane and Thomas 
Streets was the New York Hospital, a large 
and handsome granite building, the rear of 
which was on Church Street. The iron gates 
at the Broadway entrance opened on a beauti- 
ful lawn, shaded by numerous large trees, and 
it was the subject of common remark that the 
grass on that lawn was of more luxuriant 
growth, and of a more vivid green, than any 
to be seen elsewhere in the city. 



Knickerbocker Life. 165 

Abutting the Hospital grounds, on the 
south side, was a small brick building on the 
ground floor of which Mr. John Anderson kept 
his cigar and tobacco shop, and employed as 
"saleslady" {^2\Q.^-woman then) Miss Mary 
Rogers, a handsome brunette, known as "the 
beautiful cigar girl," whose murdered body was 
found one morning floating in the North 
River near the entrance to the "Sibyl's Cave" 
which was hewn in the serpentine rock of the 
Palisades at Hoboken. The authors of the 
crime were never discovered, and her sad fate 
formed the groundwork of Edgar A. Poe's 
well-known story. The Mystery of Marie Roget, 
in which all the incidents of the tragedy were 
introduced. 

White Street was the natural passage to St. 
John's Park, and west of Broadway was soon 
lined with first-class brick dwellings. On the 
north side, close to Broadway, were the homes 
of the Depau family of daughters, distinguished 
for their beauty and wealth, as well as for their 
aristocratic descent, derived through their 
mother, Silvie, who was the daughter of the 
distinguished Comte De Grasse. These ladies, 
who had intermarried with the Livingstons, 
Costers, Fowlers, were justly considered as 



1 66 Last Days of 

leaders in society, and their selection of White 
Street stamped it for the time, and others 
rapidly followed in their wake. St. John's 
Park was a quiet but fashionable quarter for 
many years. The umbrageous enclosure was 
kept in perfect order, and, as it was private 
property, no one having access to it save those 
who occupied the surrounding houses and their 
invited friends, ladies and children could 
lounge or play in the ground free from all 
intrusion. The many cheerful games and 
romps enjoyed in the old Park are cherished 
recollections with hundreds of men and 
women, who felt unfeigned sadness to see the 
trees levelled and the old play-ground blotted 
out to make way for high walls and the shrill 
whistle of the locomotive. 

Only two or three of the door-plates now 
remain on the houses that faced the Park ; 
the names of Lord, Kemble, Lydig, Coit, 
Monson, Berrian, Russell, Hosack, Binsie, 
Delafield, etc., are no longer to be seen there, 
and the descendants of the former parishioners 
of the old church have flown to more aristo- 
cratic and genial quarters ; nothing but the 
church with its tall spire is left as a landmark 
of a past generation. Yes, one other, but of 



K^iicker backer Life. 167 

more modern date, remains — the church still 
standing on the corner of Laight and Varick 
Streets, originally under the pastorate of the 
venerable Samuel H. Cox. This eloquent 
Presbyterian minister was one of the bright 
lights of the New York pulpit for half a cen- 
tury, but though mellowed by age, was yet 
equal to the task of enchaining an audience by 
his thrilling flow of language when roused by 
the grandeur of his theme. In early life he 
was impulsive, by some considered erratic ; 
his fast-rushing thoughts were not unfitly com- 
pared to chain-lightning. He was among the 
earliest to embark in the Abolition movement, 
and as he did nothing by halves, he brought on 
himself and on the church in which he preached, 
a visitation from the riotous crew who were 
opposed to this new political, religious crusade. 
He was hooted on the street and in the pulpit, 
and for a time suffered an eclipse, but he lived 
through the troublesome period, and has since 
had hosts of admirers, not to call them wor- 
shippers, of his transcendent talent. 

But back again to our promenade, to take a 
glance at some of the characters of the time and 
become excited by the din of the stages that 
rattle over the cobble-stones. There were 



1 68 Last Days of 

individuals daily seen on Broadway who 
would be unnoticed in the present crowd, but 
at a time when each man knew his neighbor, 
when a strange face was remarked, an odd 
costume the subject of comment and much 
surmise, " characters " were objects of real 
interest. Prominent among them was Mc- 
Donald Clarke, familiarly known as the " mad 
poet." He was of medium stature, far from 
unattractive in person, harmless and inof- 
fensive in manner. His raiment was what 
would be termed " shabby genteel," but there 
was something magnetic about the man which 
especially excited interest in his behalf. He 
affected a careless, swaggering gait in keeping 
with his general make-up, and his unbuttoned 
"Byronic" shirt-collar looked peculiarly odd 
when contrasted with the prim majority of his 
fellows. He lounged about the street, assum- 
ing an abstracted air, with his gaze fixed upon the 
pavement as if weighed down by some poignant 
sorrow. When audibly addressed by an ac- 
quaintance he returned the salute as if suddenly 
aroused from a deep sleep, and, after a faint 
smile of recognition, would relapse into his 
accustomed brown study. 

" How does he live ? " was the oft-repeated 



Knickerbocker Life. 169 

question propounded by sympathetic women. 
" Would the unfortunate gentleman accept of 
some gratuity?" was not infrequently added, 
as the melancholy genius was on his accus- 
tomed tramp, intently seeking for something 
he was never to find on earth. McDonald 
Clarke never suffered for food while there was 
anything in Windust's store-room, neither did 
he lack a few shillings to jingle in his pocket, 
for he unostentatiously mingled with the gen- 
erous set, whose motto, "Let us live by the 
way," included the mad poet within its range. 
From time to time fugitive pieces over his 
signature appeared in print ; they were all 
written in the love-sick, melancholy strain, and 
they confirmed the popular belief that unre- 
quited love had clouded his brain. After his 
death some kind-hearted friend collected and 
published his verses, and humanely devoted 
the proceeds to erecting a monument to his 
memory in a secluded nook at Greenwood, 
where, after "life's fitful fever, he sleeps well." 
Another character, but of a different type, 
was by common consent christened the Ginger- 
Bread Man. This singular specimen was a 
harmless lunatic, and mainly noticeable from 
the peculiar form his madness assumed. His 



1 70 Last Days of 

name and history were unknown, and if he had 
relatives or acquaintances, even in the city, 
they never owned him before men ; for no 
one has been seen to recognize or accost him 
on the street. This oddity derived the name 
by which he was known from his only visible 
article of diet, viz. : Gz?tger-bread. He was a 
man of powerful frame, with a ruddy counte- 
nance, denoting the highest health, and would 
be pronounced agreeable to look at. His 
dress was invariably a rusty black suit, dis- 
colored by continuous profuse perspiration, for 
he never was seen to walk summer or winter, 
but was always on a round jog-trot, as if intent 
on some mission of vital import. The pockets 
of his dress or " swallow-tail " coat were used as 
receptacles for his food, and seemed to contain 
an inexhaustible supply of the ginger cake 
upon which he made continuous drafts, which 
were passed to his mouth with an eager mo- 
tion, indicative of craving hunger. His course 
was up and down Broadway, never stopping, 
except when one of the tea-water pumps was 
reached, where he would regale himself with a 
bountiful draught of pure spring water, refill 
his capacious mouth with the chosen staff of 
life, and start afresh on his crazy tramp, after 



Knickerbocker Life. 171 

that something which always seemed to be a 
Httle ahead of the unfortunate but determined 
creature. All at once he was missed from his 
accustomed place. One enquired of another as 
to his probable whereabouts. No one knew ; 
so the Ginger-Bread Man passed away as he 
had lived — an unsolved mystery. 

A third common, yet uncommon sight, was 
a weird member of the human family, who, by 
reason of always being covered with lime from 
head to foot, was appropriately designated as 
the Lime-Kiln Man. This tall, gaunt, cadav- 
erous figure was usually clad in the loose cot- 
ton garb of a laborer, bespattered with lime ; 
his uncut, uncombed locks were matted by 
constant contact with the same material, which 
also besmeared his long attenuated face and 
imparted to his tout ensemble a haggard ex- 
pression not easily obliterated. Though he 
was the personification of the most abject 
poverty, this singular mortal was not a profes- 
sional beggar ; he was never known to solicit 
alms on the street or elsewhere, and he even 
gave no heed to the gaze of those who with 
pitying eye looked upon him as a fit object for 
succor ; but instead, he stalked demurely on, 
as if unconscious of all surroundings. From 



172 Last Days of 

what nationality he sprang, upon what means 
or special charity he subsisted, was never di- 
vulged. All the speculations about his being 
some distinguished exile, etc., were only nur- 
sery tales that excited wonderment among the 
prattling Knickerbockers. After some years 
of mysterious sojourn in our midst, the singu- 
lar apparition was found dead in a lime-kiln 
on the banks of the Hudson, which rumor as- 
serted had been his nightly resting-place. At 
his death, the papers furnished the usual num- 
ber of conjectures as to his antecedents and 
habits of life, but they were fancy sketches 
havinor no foundation in fact. 

Dandy Cox was still another of our Broad- 
way sights. This Cox was a good-looking, 
showy mulatto, who had selected the occupa- 
tion of renovating gentlemen's clothing as a 
means of support, and to all outward appear- 
ance had a thriving trade. He was a carica- 
ture on the ruling fashions of the time, and 
with the aping propensities of his race was 
most successful in taking off the notables who 
affected style. Cox drove a spirited horse, 
sometimes hitched to a light wagon, but more 
frequently to a two-wheeled Stanhope, then 
considered an eleo-ant vehicle, but which now 



Knickerbocker Life. 173 

would be considered as a horse-killer, and 
entitled to the instant attention of President 
Bergh. He was always alive to the fact that 
he was a primary object of attention, and, 
darkey like, was equal to any emergency. 
His seat was as high pitched as possible, his 
well-brushed beaver cocked at the precise 
angle, his green jockey coat carefully arranged, 
so as to display every brass button, his wash- 
leather gloves spotless, his whip held by the 
centre, after the most approved cockney style, 
his elbows well up to gain a surer purchase 
on the fractious steed — his little darkey play- 
ing the tiger with the marked ability of a 
monkey — in fine, no modern nostrum vender 
can vie with Dandy Cox, if viewed in the 
light of an advertising; medium. All the news- 
papers of his day could not have added one 
jot to his fame. 




CHAPTER VII. 

The first omnibuses — Their distinguished names — Their 
several routes — rivalries and races — Brewer's stables 
— Sol Kipp of Kipp and Brown — His benevolence 
and popularity in Greenwich village — He fights con- 
struction of Eighth Avenue Railroad and dies poor — 
The Broadway House the Whig headquarters — Its 
habitues — selection of local candidates — The Tyler 
Campaign, 1840 — General Harrison — Martin Van 
Buren the " Kinderhook Magician " — The Campaign 
of '44 — " Harry of the West " — Frelinghuysen re- 
sponds to the election of Clay — Defeat announced 
next morning — Vauxhall Garden — Its mystic bowers 
— Barnum and the manufactured mermaid — The Astor 
Place Riot — American and Peale's Museums — Their 
collection of horrors — Wax figures — Their lecture 
rooms — Spiritualism — Yankee Hill — Daddy Rice — 
Barnum absorbs the American and Peale's and estab- 
lishes the "high moral drama." 

GOTHAM had stages or omnibuses, few 
in number, but that deficiency was 
amply compensated by their proportions and 

174 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. \ 75 

decorations. These imposing conveyances 
were severally named after celebrated men 
and women, and it was considered not an 
every-day affair to take a ride in the George 
Washington, Lady Washington, General 
Lafayette, Benjamin Franklin, De Witt Clin- 
ton, Thomas Jefferson, etc., for their names 
were emblazoned on the sides in "characters 
of living light." These ponderous ambulances 
were propelled by four prancing steeds, and 
the several ''whips'' who engineered them 
were well-known to every urchin who pre- 
tended the slightest claim to respectability, 
for these men were looked up to as important 
personages in our little world. 

The route for the Broadway lines was from 
the Bowling Green to Bond Street, but if it 
chanced to rain very hard, and there was a lady 
in question, the courteous " Yorke'' would gal- 
lantly drive his four creams as far north as 
the Kipp Mansion, then on the site now 
occupied by the New York Hotel. These 
celebrated stages did not all belong to one 
man ; there were three distinct proprietors, 
and there was no inconsiderable rivalry, which 
fact invested them with an unusual amount 
of interest, engendered by their strife for 



1 76 Last Days of 

popularity and patronage. Wicked little 
boys would bet apples that Brower's General 
Washington would beat Jones's Thomas Jef- 
ferson, and find takers that Colvill's Benjamin 
Franklin would distance the pair, so that on 
a Saturday afternoon Broadway became a race- 
course on a moderate scale, and the unfortu- 
nate losers were twitted on their lack of 
judgment in horseflesh, or their folly in put- 
ting faith in certain tricky or incompetent 
drivers. 

Abraham Brower's stables were on Broad- 
way, opposite Bond Street, mere shells of sheds 
running through to Mercer Street, for anything 
was then considered good enough for a horse, 
and his one or two carriages and wagons had 
become weather-proof from long exposure. 
Evan Jones housed his stages on White Street, 
while Colvill held out on Grand, just east of 
Broadway, where he was so cramped for space 
that Benjamin Franklin and De Witt Clinton 
were compelled to rest out doors after their 
daily labor. Land was cheap, like the Irish- 
man's potatoes, but capital was limited, and 
the livery business a risky undertaking, though 
it was a well-known fact that if a gentleman 
who did not own an establishment desired to 



Knickerbocker Life. 177 

drive out with a lady, he was compelled to 
scour the city and give a day or two's notice 
to secure one of the few vehicles that a fair 
one would be willing to ride in during day- 
light. The fare on these Broadway lines was 
one shilling, but it was not, as at present, 
passed up through a hole, to reach which a man 
is compelled to take unwarrantable risks, either 
endangering his own limbs or else inflicting 
serious injuries upon the understandings of 
fellow-passengers. The shilling was handed on 
entering or leaving to a small boy perched out- 
side at the end of the stage, who acted in the 
capacity of a modern car conductor. Whether 
this youth divided square, i. e., between the 
proprietor, driver, and himself, is not known. 
History is silent on this point ; but certain it 
is that no great wealth flowed into the coflers 
of the trio who battled for the privilege of rid- 
ing people up and down Broadway at a shilling 
apiece. 

There was yet another stage-line, which 
started from the corner of Pine and Nassau 
Streets, through Broadway to Canal, from 
thence wandered away up Hudson Street, past 
gardens and meadows, until at last Greenwich 
Village was reached. These accommodations 



178 Last Days of 

came to a dead Whoa I at Charles Street, 
where was the stable of Asa Hall, who, be- 
tween making hats in Greenwich Street near 
Dey, and carrying people in his stages at 
twenty-five cents each, became " full handed," 
and sold out the Greenwich line to two young 
enterprising men, who afterwards became 
prominent as the firm of Kipp & Brown. Few 
men of his day were better known or more 
widely respected than the genial, warm-hearted 
Sol Kipp. His purse was always open in re- 
sponse to the call of charity ; his name at the 
head of subscriptions ; in fun or frolic Sol was 
on hand, well knowing that his bright face and 
white cravat would receive a hearty welcome in 
any gathering of his fellow-citizens. 

Though lavish in expenditure, ample means 
seemed ever at his command to gratify a wish 
or relieve a friend in distress, and it was not 
until the projection of the Eighth Avenue 
Railroad, which covered the whole line of his 
remunerative route, that misfortune overtook 
him. For years, in connection with his patrons, 
he battled in the courts against the rich monop- 
oly, but finally George Law and his millions 
told against him in the scales, and Kipp found 
himself poor, and of course friendless. This 



Knickerbocker Life. 179 

generous man who was for so long a period the 
life and soul of the " Village," where, in pros- 
perity, his will was law, was occasionally seen 
tottering with age along Hudson Street, un- 
noticed by the passing crowd and, sad to say, 
almost unknown in a neighborhood where only 
a few years since he was greeted with a smile 
of recognition by every youngster who played 
marbles or spun a top in the district. 

On the northeast corner of Broadway and 
Grand Street stood the Broadway House, a 
much frequented barroom which derived its 
chief patronage from the fact that the place 
was the Whig headquarters of the city and 
county when that party held power, and its 
committee dispensed the Federal and State 
patronage. At that time such men as 
Cadwallader D. Golden, Philip Hone, Walter 
Bown, Gideon Lee, Cornelius W. Lawrence, 
Aaron Clark, Joseph N. Barnes, the father-in- 
law of Oakey Hall, Nat Blunt, Frederick A. 
Tallmadge, Moses H. Grinnell, William Pauld- 
ing, Philip W. Engs, and others were leading 
politicians, and were sought for to accept office 
at the hands of their constituents. There al- 
ways has been wire-pulling in politics, with 
hot-brained partisans, noisy followers in the 



i8o Last Days of 

ranks of faction ; money was always required 
to work the machinery, and on the near ap- 
proach of election stump orators were in de- 
mand, as well as quantities of " the ardent " 
to excite hope and brighten the blaze of 
patriotism. 

All this was so even In Knickerbocker times ; 
still, up to the close of Knickerbocker rule, the 
rough and rowdy had no part or lot in the 
political organization of the day, and the nomi- 
nees for positions were selected with reference 
to their fitness and qualification for office. 
Honor, not salary or fees, was the aim of 
candidates, and, strange as it may appear to- 
day, the prefix of Alderman to a man's name 
did not imply that he was an adept in schemes 
to enrich himself at the expense of every manly 
attribute. Better still, in Knickerbocker days 
a seat on the Bench was a proud position ; It 
was coveted by the wisest and best men at the 
bar ; it was an independent tenure, free from 
the entanglements incident to nominations at 
primary meetings, and it was unembarrassed 
by promises and associations which must too 
often shield the guilty and thus defeat the ends 
of justice. 

During the "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" 




feE3 teil t-^ 'if:??^ 




(Mis 






1 



s 



EgyS^i 



3HV 



ill 



Knickerbocker Life. i8i 

campaign of 1840, there was erected, by the 
local Whig committee, on a then vacant lot on 
the east side of Broadway above Prince Street 
a " log cabin," in which meetings of that party 
were held, and which served as a daily and 
nightly lounging-place for the Whig " states- 
men " of the period. A barrel of " hard cider " 
was always on tap, and was served free to all 
comers, and the tables were well supplied with 
campaign literature setting forth the manifold 
sins and wickednesses of the "Loco-foco" 
party, the military exploits and civic virtues of 
General Harrison, the Whig candidate, the 
shortcomings of President Van Buren (disre- 
spectfully named as " Little Matty " and " the 
Kinderhook Magician ") who was charged, 
among other offences with indulgence in most 
extravagant and undemocratic practices — even 
to the blood-curdling crime of using gold, 
spoons at the White House dining-table. 

" Here 's to you, Harry Clay," was one of 
the rallying cries of the old line Whigs who 
(in the campaign of 1844) met at the Broad- 
way House for a ^r:2cc\di pow-wow, when, in lieu 
of a calcium, light, a tar-barrel and a few pine 
knots served all the purposes of illumination, 
while the intricate tariff question was being 



1 82 Last Days of 

ventilated by a pet orator, who had been intro- 
duced and endorsed as sound by Prosper M. 
Wetmore, ere he was lifted on some stray hogs- 
head especially captured for the occasion by 
Bill Harrington and Bill Poole who belonged 
to this aristocratic wing of patriots. 

Clay and Frelinghuysen were the last great 
standard-bearers of the old Whig party, and 
during that memorable canvass the Broadway 
House was throng-ed with their zealous adher- 
ents. On the day of election, as the returns 
were received from point after point, a Whig 
triumph seemed assured ; the odds were ''Any 
thing you like J' money flowed like water in and 
about headquarters — the excitement rose to 
fever heat, and the air resounded with wild 
cheers for Harry Clay, whose magnetic power 
made him not merely the idol of his own party, 
but of the country at large. When evening 
came, "assurance was doubly sure," and an 
impromptu procession was formed, and a yelling 
crowd swept up Broadway to bear the glad 
tidings to Frelinghuysen, who was temporarily 
stopping with a friend in Washington Place. 
The supposed Vice-President elect responded 
to the enthusiastic call, and the welkin rang 
with continuous cheers for the " Star of the 



Knickerbocker Life. 183 

West." During the night, sleep was banished 
from the city, for the Whigs were drunk with 
joy. With the morning light, however, came 
tidings that New York State had proved recre- 
ant to her promises, and success had hinged 
upon its vote. The jubilant Clay men soon 
subsided ; and the hitherto quiet opposition 
noiselessly pocketed the long odds, flung out 
their banner from the flag-staff of old Tammany, 
and chuckled merrily over their too sanguine 
adversaries. This defeat dimmed the glory of 
the Broadway House — its lights went out : 
that is to say, the leaders who had given it its 
prestige sought new and more promising pas- 
tures. Some affiliated with the Loco-focos, 
while the majority embraced the " isms " gen- 
erated by the Abolition Clique, who had 
defeated Harry Clay in what was supposed to 
be his stronghold, and who have now risen to 
power as the dominant Republican party. 

Vauxhall Garden, a favorite resort for the 
democratic masses, occupied most of the block 
of ground now bounded by Fourth Avenue, La- 
fayette Place, Fourth Street, and Astor Place. 
This extensive plot was surrounded by a high 
board fence, with a main entrance on Fourth 
Avenue, opposite Sixth Street. It was taste- 



184 Last Days of 

fully laid out in garden walks, shaded by a fine 
growth of forest trees, and ornamented by 
beds of shrubs and flowers. Small neatly fitted- 
up boxes to represent mystic bowers were 
ranged along the fences, for the special accom- 
modation of female visitors who desired re- 
freshments, while benches and chairs were 
scattered under the trees for the use of male 
patrons who chose to sip their brandy and 
smoke their principe in the open air. In the 
centre of the space a large wooden shed, 
scarcely worthy to be called a building, had 
been erected for the purposes of a show, and it 
was occasionally used by a strolling company of 
actors, who charged a small fee for admission. 
It was sometimes changed into an impromptu 
ball-room, but a rather questionable band of 
music, with some inexpensive fireworks to 
amuse the children, were the staple attractions 
of the place. 

Vauxhall was out of town, it was considered 
a healthy romping-place, and as the price of 
admission was nominal and the charges for re- 
freshments moderate, on fine afternoons and 
holidays it was crowded with women and child- 
ren. As the city grew, it became a favorite 
spot for mass-meetings of every description, 



Knickerbocker Life. 185 

and the stamping-ground of the "buncombe " 
orators. It was the theatre of the SHevegam- 
mon excitement ; it was there that Barnum 
began his earhest raids as the leader in hum- 
bug ; and if Dame Rumor speaks true, the cele- 
brated mermaid, one of his crowning frauds, 
was manufactured in Vauxhall Garden under 
the critical eye of the Prince of Showman. 
Lot by lot it was gradually shorn of its propor- 
tions ; dwellings were erected on Lafayette 
Place, and the owners of the ground found profit 
in small stores on the avenue ; so that years 
before its final destruction it had dwindled into 
a mere billiard and drinking saloon, though it 
retained its origfinal name to the end. Brad- 
ford Jones, a well-known popular host, was its 
last lessee. He endeavored to keep alive its 
ancient prestige by the aid of cheap concerts, 
negro minstrelsy, and calico balls ; but he was 
rewarded with only small returns, and soon 
after the Astor Place riot, when the ill-advised 
partisans of Forrest and Macready so disgrace- 
fully distinguished themselves, and the Vaux- 
hall billiard-tables had served as a resting-place 
for the mutilated victims of that murderous 
affray, its doors were finally closed, and Brad- 
ford Jones sought another field of labor. 



1 86 Last Days of 

Barnum's name recalls the fact that Knick- 
erbocker New York could boast of two mu- 
seums. The most unposing of these was the 
American, founded by John Scudder, and occu- 
pying the prominent site where the New York 
Herald building now stands.^ Its varied col- 
lections were displayed in four long rooms, 
each one hundred feet long, and from its ob- 
servatory might be enjoyed some of the finest 
views of the beautiful bay and surrounding 
country. Peale's was situated on Broadway, 
opposite the park, and was a counterpart of the 
other in everything save dimensions. Both of 
these establishments were real museums, not 
designed as convenient rendezvous for intrigue, 
but clean, silent, systematic places for serious 
contemplation, and the study of the wonders 
and eccentricities of nature. Children on 
crossing the thresholds of these temples dedi- 
cated to science were awe-stricken by the sight 
presented, and clung tremblingly to their 
grandmothers for protection while gazing upon 
the trophies which had been culled from every 
nook of the civilized and barbarian world. 

These museums would have been pronounced 
duplicates by a casual observer. Each had on 

' Corner of Broadway and Ann Street. 



Knickerbocker Life. 187 

exhibition the wax presentment of Daddy 
Lambert, and this historic fat man was caged 
by well authenticated representatives of heroes, 
criminals, and murderers, whose romantic or 
villainous deeds had long been immortalized 
in nursery rhyme. So this wax department, 
when each figure had been pointed out and 
duly described by grandmother, was a grand 
attraction to youthful pilgrims in search of 
knowledge. Next in order of interest came 
the horrible boa-constrictors, who were cruelly 
fed before our eyes with innocent live chickens 
and rabbits. During the process of his snake- 
ship's meal the ears of the terrified young ones 
were wide open to listen, as the bland keeper 
gave an accurate statement as to what these 
monstrous reptiles would do if they only had 
the chance, and we timidly calculated in pri- 
mary rules of arithmetic, what power of resist- 
ance the slim wire bars could offer should the 
boa resolve to change his steady diet and try a 
taste of baby by way of variety. So we slunk 
away from possible danger to feast our eyes 
upon the benign countenance of the Father of 
his Country, satisfied from early education 
that even his features on canvas were a sure 
protection against all assailants. 



1 88 Last Days of 

The portrait of Washington was surrounded 
by a bevy of notables : Napoleon, Franklin, 
Penn, Christopher Columbus, Jefferson, Madi- 
son, Sir Walter Raleigh, Queen Elizabeth, etc., 
backed up by way of nationality by the imagi- 
nary heads of Indian chiefs, who massacred 
and scalped our forefathers and foremothers 
(with their innocent babes), who had never 
done them any harm except to give them fire- 
water and glass beads for their lands and rich 
furs. Next came a wonderful mummy, with 
the precise date of its sepulture marked on a 
piece of parchment, yellow with time or by 
reason of some chemical appliance. Indian 
war-clubs, bows and arrows of curious work- 
manship, canoes of bark and hide, scalps of 
unfortunate pilgrims, dried bones of all sizes 
and shapes, ostrich eggs suspended from the 
ceiling ; old pennies arranged in glass cases, a 
piece of the frigate Constitution, the signature 
of John Hancock ; some specimens of Conti- 
nental money, but any quantity of large and 
small stones duly labelled and designated in a 
body as " the Cabinet of Minerals," were among 
the other contents, over which our elders 
lingered long, and expatiated in grateful terms 
on the enterprise of the proprietor who gave 



Knickerbocker Life. 189 

them such a rare scientific treat at so little 
cost ; i.e., twenty-five cents, children half price. 
The latter were considered as such for a much 
longer period than in this advanced age. A boy 
of eighteen in a long-tailed coat and high hat 
would have been the butt of his companions. 

Each of these museums prided itself upon 
the attractions offered by its Lecture Room, 
where at a stated hour in the afternoon and 
evening an enthusiastic professor of something 
would learnedly hold forth on a subject about 
which he knew little, but well aware of the fact 
that his slim audience knew less, if possible. If 
the writer be not greatly mistaken, the theory 
of mesmerism was first broached in this country 
at Peale's Museum. At all events, it is certain 
that it was in that lecture room he listened to 
a pale-faced, gold-spectacled individual, who 
ventilated himself in the same disconnected, 
nonsensical strain which is now characteristic 
of the modern professor of spirit-rapping necro- 
mancy — a strain which has at first befogged, 
and eventually destroyed so many generous, 
brilliant men and women, wrecked multitudes 
of once happy homes, and materially aided in 
populating the lunatic asylums of the country. 

But neither Scudder nor Peal, confined them- 



igo Last Days of 

selves to dark-lantern isms. These did not pay 
in those hard-working, practical days, when peo- 
ple gave a wide berth to everything which did 
not commend itself to sound common sense. 
So they were compelled to cater to the taste 
of that large class, who while they enjoyed 
occasional amusement, had been educated to 
the belief that the theatre was " the gate of 
hell." The term was used from the pulpit, and 
what the dominie said, must be true. So the 
devil was " whipped round the stump," and 
grandfather and grandmother would take the 
children on Wednesday afternoon, for that was 
a stated school holiday, to the Museum Lec- 
ture Room, and the dear old people would 
laugh till they cried at the oddities and witti- 
cisms on that miniature stage, never for a 
moment dreaming that they had entered the 
portals of Inferno, and were surrounded by the 
fumes of sulphur and brimstone. 

A popular celebrity of the time, who was 
frequently engaged to appear at the Lec- 
ture Room, was a comical genius named Hill, 
who was the acknowledged personator of the 
"darned, down-easter" stage Yankee, with 
short striped trowsers, long straps, lank hair, 
immense shirt-collar, white hat, shuffling gait, 



Knickerbocker Life. 191 

jack-knife, whittling-stick, and drawl. Hill's 
imitation was pronounced perfect, and by com- 
mon consent he was long known as Yankee 
Hill. His performance was a monologue and 
was made up of long-spun yarns : How Jona- 
than courted Charity Jones while peeling 
apples or shelling chicken feed by the kitchen 
fire ; Deacon Swift's horse swap ; Aunt Ta- 
bithy's tea scrape ; Burlesque Fourth of July 
orations, interspersed with popular melodies 
sung with a peculiar nasal twang which elicited 
roars of laughter. 

Daddy Rice, the originator of the now popu- 
lar negro minstrelsy, was another great card at 
the Lecture Room ; his celebrated "Jump Jim 
Crow " was carolled by all the jolly boys and 
pert servant girls in Gotham ; and for many 
years these and similar entertainments sufficed 
to satisfy the patrons of the museums. By 
degrees, however, the strict barriers of demar- 
cation were one by one withdrawn ; and when 
Barnum became proprieter of the American, 
and Peale was absorbed, he enlarofed the stagfe, 
expanded the dimensions of the Lecture Room 
and introduced one after another the dreadful 
appliances of the " Devil's School of Ethics," 
without disturbing the consciences of sensitive 



192 Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 

audiences, who could still go to the museum 
and laugh or cry over the veriest sensation 
trash, but would not dare to be seen in a tem- 
ple devoted to the highest flights of the legiti- 
mate drama. Barnum discovered that pious 
dollars would purchase full as much in the open 
market as could be bought with an equal num- 
ber which had passed through the grip of the 
ungodly. He crowded his Lecture Room by 
bringing out " high moral dramas," which he 
puffed as illustrated sermons in disguise, sugar- 
coated pills ; and the numbers converted by 
them, at an outlay of fifty cents each, can be 
approximated by ascertaining the cost of Iran- 
istan and the value of the many prominent 
pieces of property in New York and elsewhere 
registered in the name of the distinguished 
temperance lecturer. 




CHAPTER VIII. 

Retirement from business — Very few capitalists — Social 
distinctions not based upon pecuniary standard — 
Dignity of age and the respect it commanded — Ven- 
eration for home — the house closes at ten — Parties 
— Receptions — The bridal feast— Toilets of bride and 
bridesmaids — Grandmother in brocade — Taking tea — 
Spending the evening — Deliberation in purchases — 
The two cashmere shawls — True woman in appropriate 
costume— Modest social gatherings — Formal dinner 
parties exceptional — Bon F/z^a;//^— Thanksgiving-Day 
dinner — Knickerbocker Puritanism — The advent of 
the Teuton — The dance— The song — Lager beer — 
Tammany Hall — Apollo saloon — Annual balls — The 
Volunteer Firemen and their companies — Names of 
the prominent foremen — The Bowery boy and girl 
described and how they disported themselves at a 
ball at Tammany Hall— A Broadway swell invades 
the festive scene and retreats under fire, somewhat 
damaged— The Apollo ball-room — Young America 
covertly enjoys an evening with the grisettes of New 
York— The attempt to inaugurate monthly balls at 
the City Hotel defeated by the dowagers and the 
ministers— Young America driven to "Apollo" by 
unyielding formality. 

WHEN the population of New York City 
was about two hundred thousand, So- 
ciety, to use the word in its modern appH- 

13 rg3 



194 Z^^/ Days of 

cation, was not subdivided as at present. 
Active employment was a necessity for all men ; 
sloth was a bar to respectability. There were 
some " retired men," as they are now styled ; 
but as a rule extreme age or chronic infirmity 
was the cause which forced them to abandon 
an active life.The occupation, calling, or trade 
of each man was known to his neighbor ; for 
the mysterious ways by which fortunes are now 
gained without visible continuous labor, had 
not been discovered. Industry, punctuality, 
frugality, with a strict conformity to popular 
sentiment, formed the basis of credit, which 
was all important to success ; for this credit 
was the main capital of a large majority of 
merchants and tradesmen. 

The city could boast of some few capitalists, 
but with the exception of two or three, whose 
wealth was computed by hundreds of thou- 
sands, the principal of the balance would not 
equal the amount which thousands now expend 
annually in the maintenance of their princely 
homes. The church, the bar, medicine, the 
arts and sciences had each many eminent repre- 
sentatives in the community ; men who were 
looked up to with that deferential respect which 
always has and ever will be awarded to those 



Knickerbocker Life. 195 

whose lives and talents are devoted to the 
study of social progress. Yet even these did 
not assume to constitute themselves into a " se- 
clusion coterie." The merchant came next, but 
the dividing line between store and shop was 
not so distinctly drawn as now ; the status of 
employer and employee was less closely de- 
fined, the latter not infrequently being an in- 
mate, and ever a welcome g-uest, at the home 
of his employer. Then came that large class 
known as mechanics, who with their journey- 
men, apprentices, and laborers have always 
formed so formidable a proportion of every 
city, and where success is mainly dependent on 
the demand for the thousand wants and luxu- 
ries which spring into being as labor accumu- 
lates capital. The simple necessaries of life 
require but little skill or toil for their produc- 
tion, and as home manufactures satisfied the 
Knickerbocker taste, fancy artificers met with 
only limited employment. Loungers or non- 
producers were marked persons at a time when 
"■ Early to bed and early to rise " was a ruling 
motto, and " to work while daylight lasts " was 
the governing habit, from the learned profes- 
sional man to the humblest artizan. Thrift, 
rigid conformity with social law, undeviating 



196 Last Days of 

probity, constituted the prime essentials to 
respectability. 

Comfortable independence assumed cordial 
welcome by one class to the other, and really 
no aristocracy existed or was claimed, save 
where the distinction was cheerfully awarded 
to the cultivated and refined, but without the 
slightest reference to a pecuniary standard. 
There were circles naturally formed by con- 
geniality of tastes and similarity of daily occu- 
pation, which could not be entered by a mere 
golden key. The applicant for admission must 
possess the requisite afilinities and bear about 
him the unmistakable evidences which, the 
world over, proclaim the gentleman by senti- 
ment and education. This idea of aristocracy 
pervaded Gotham and was derived from the 
staunch Knickerbocker stock ; it underlay and 
formed the foundation of New York society. 
The good old fathers and their madames were 
great sticklers for form and ceremony ; their 
ruffles and cuffs were starched, and unwittingly 
imparted to the wearers an air of dignified com- 
posure that would check the merest approach 
to familiarity from their juniors, and kept even 
equals at a respectful distance. Pater and 
Materfamilias exacted the most implicit obe- 



Knickerbocker Life. igy 

dience from their offspring " even unto the 
third generation," while dependents and ser- 
vants of every grade recognized Master and 
Mistress as if by intuition. 

This dignity was maintained, even though 
they might be compelled to exercise the most 
rigid economy in the details appertaining to 
Aome. This home was an heirloom, not valued 
in the light of an estate to be converted into 
money, but priceless as having been the ances- 
tral abode ; no matter how humble in dimen- 
sions or appointments. The idea of change in 
the massive, bulky furniture was never dreamed 
of, continuous use only made each familiar 
piece more highly prized ; a fixed abode and a 
consistent, unvarying mode of living entered 
strongly into the Knickerbocker notion of 
family pride or aristocracy ; they abhorred 
everything vacillating. They looked with dis- 
trust on such as were here to-day and stayed 
somewhere else to-morrow, deeming they pos- 
sessed no terrestrial anchorage upon which to 
base any claim to respectability. The social 
circle was made up from friendships rather 
than by mere acquaintances ; and while there 
was no lack of hospitality there was a seclusive 
sanctity attached to the idea of home, which 



198 Last Days of 

bound it effectually against any who were not 
duly accredited as worthy. 

Parental rule was supreme in the home, and 
the power was not relinquished or even dele- 
gated while life lasted. It was founded on the 
patriarchal system ; agreeable or distasteful, it 
was law, and no juvenile quibble could avail in 
circumventing it. The head of the family 
reigned supreme in matters both great and 
small ; in the kitchen and in the parlor ; in in- 
come and expenditure ; in fact, one brain and 
one purse regulated the domestic pendulum. 
Father or mother, or both, were in the parlor. 
The " miss" who had suggested the propriety 
of their spending the evening in dining-room 
or basement would, on the instant, have been 
awarded ample time for serious reflection in 
the seclusion of her chamber ; and the '' mas- 
ter," in roundabout, had to make special ar- 
rangements of the most confidential character 
with Betty, as to which basement window 
should be left unbarred, when the youth was 
seized with a freak of dissipation and had re- 
solved to defy the ten o'clock mandate and stay 
out till eleven. For when the old clock on the 
stairs struck ten, guest or guests quietly de- 
parted, or they would have received a demon- 



Knickerbocker Life. 199 

strative hint by the closing of inside shutters 
and a general preparation to retire. 

Parties, even among the most affluent, were 
not of frequent occurrence ; stated reception 
days or evenings were not needed, for visiting 
had not been reduced to an empty ceremony. 
During usual hours and at proper seasons the 
ladies of New York were to be found at home 
ready to receive their friends ; and, if they were 
not attired in elaborate Parisian toilets, their 
unpowdered, blooming faces were wreathed 
with smiles of welcome. 

On grand occasions, a wedding for instance, 
some pretentious preparations were indulged in; 
written invitations were issued, scientific outside 
aid was secured, so that Cornelia's bridal feast 
should compare favorably with that of her 
cousin Mary, which had been pronounced sans 
reproche by a jury of family " aunties," who, 
being relics of revolutionary sires, were con- 
ceded to be posted, and from whose judgment 
in such, and in fact in all matters, there was 
no appeal. Even Jackson, the renowned col- 
ored caterer of the day, whose headquarters 
were in an obscure basement on Howard Street, 
and who assumed a thousand airs when waiting 
upon ordinary customers, most deferentially de- 



200 Last Days of 

ferred to the dig-nified but firmly expressed 
opinions of these courtly dames ; for if he had 
dared to differ from or oppose their wishes, 
these stately matrons could summon up a look 
and assume a manner and tone which would for 
the time have weakened a much more formid- 
able individual than the pompous Jackson. He 
was, however, reported to take sweet revenge 
for these aristocratic snubs, by lording it over 
those unfortunate customers who could boast 
of no "three-story aunties" who knew exactly 
what they wanted, and insisted upon not only 
having it, but in their own way, and not one 
word back. 

Whittingham furnished the bridal robe, which 
custom ordained should be of white satin, with 
the slightest possible tinge of yellow to impart 
richness. The waist was styled a bodice, stiff 
and unyielding as its definition implies, termi- 
nating in sharp points before and behind, and 
laced to an almost stifling pressure. It was cut 
very low in the neck and shoulders and orna- 
mented with a deep fall of rich blond-lace ; 
the sleeves were tight and, reaching only to the 
elbow, terminated by ample frills of lace ex- 
tending to the waist ; the skirt just touched the 
instep, but was so full behind as to rival the 



Knickerbocker Life. 201 

most imposing panier of a modern belle. Mar- 
tell, the coiffeur, appeared on the scene early 
in the day to perform his part in the wonderful 
make up ; by his skill he caused each particu- 
lar hair to perform its whole duty, ere the three 
high-reaching bows on the top of the head 
were satisfactorily built up ; and when the 
coronet of artificial orange blossoms which 
sustained the blond-lace veil was duly ad- 
justed, the sun was fast sinking in the west. 
So, by the time Lane's white satin boots had 
been laced and the six-buttoned gloves were 
worked on and secured, the bridesmaids, groom, 
and groomsmen had arrived. 

The bridesmaids were counterparts of their 
temporary mistress, save that their wreaths 
were of artificial roses, and no veil enshrouded 
the fair forms. The groom and his aids were 
magnificent in blue coats, brass buttons, high 
white satin stocks, ruffled shirt bosoms, figured 
satin vests, silk stockings and pumps, with their 
front hair tightly frizzed by Maniort in the 
highest style of tonsorial art. 

Greenhouses were few and not over-abun- 
dantly stocked. One modern order would 
have swept them all for the season, and the 
extent of private conservatories was limited to 



202 Last Days of 

a row of geraniums and monthly roses ; in 
other words, limited by the capacity of the 
basement window-sills ; so that the floral dis- 
play during winter was far from being either 
extensive or extravagant. The enthusiastic 
o-room was often compelled to make up the sad 
deficiency in the quality of his bridal bouquet 
by a lavish investment in the gilt and pearl 
holder which invariably accompanied it ; for, 
after diligent search among all the collections 
of plants in the family circle, the precious thing 
culminated in a bountiful array of green leaves 
with a sickly rosebud or two as a grand central 
attraction. When such proved the insurmount- 
able difficulty, the blushing bridesmaids were 
compelled to gaze abstractedly on their fans, 
which being of celestial Chinese manufacture, 
were profusely ornamented with the most 
elaborate counterfeits of rare exotics. 

The lack of flowers and nicknacks was 
amply compensated for by the substantial pro- 
fusion of the supper-table. The bride's cake, 
of formidable proportions, was the grand centre- 
piece. It was made at home, so solid and rich 
in its intricate composition that it improved 
by age, and it was cut into such generous slices 
and so liberally dispensed that a piece would 



Knickerbocker Life. 203 

serve for the dreams of a whole family. It 
was very different from the sickly-looking sub- 
stitute now immured in minute paper coffins, 
which so soon crumbles into tasteless dust. 
Solids and dainties were lavishly spread on the 
board ; hams, chickens, turkeys, and often 
game, glass dishes of rich home-made pre- 
serves, high china fruit-stands loaded with 
lady apples, oranges, Malaga grapes, raisins, 
nuts, mottoes made up under home supervision, 
the candy, Stuart's best, and the sentiments 
eminently proper ; a towering form of Contoit's 
vanilla, brandy peaches of a flavor to make a 
temperance orator bound with joy, piles of 
cake of every known variety from the humble 
cruller to the most delicate wafer jumble. 

The diningr-room floor was not flooded with 
a reckless waste of champagne, though the 
sharp snap of the flying cork was heard dis- 
tinctly amid the jovial din ; Madeira, Port, and 
Sherry were plentifully dispensed to enliven 
the marriag-e feast. Wax candles and astral 
lamps shed a mellow light from every nook 
where a silver candlestick could stand. All 
was life. Grandmother and our aunties were 
there, radiant in the full regalia of bygone 
days, stiff in ancient brocades, formidable in 



204 Last Days of 

their towering caps, tortoise-shell combs, pow- 
dered puffs, and lace capes. Erect, composed, 
filled with self-esteem and self-assertion, they 
renewed their youth at these gatherings by a 
unanimous accord that earthly grandeur would 
pass away when they were summoned from 
the stage of life. It was a study to note the 
glance of disdainful pity with which they scanned 
the puny youngsters from the conceded post 
of honor, at the same time exacting the most 
courteous attention from child and visitor. 
Better, perhaps, would it be for the present 
generation had that feudal system never been 
broken up ; the restraints it imposed were 
morally healthful, for dignity instead of lawless 
frivolity reigned in the home circle when soci- 
ety paid deference to age. 

There was a marked difference between an 
invitation " to take tea " and an invitation " to 
spend the evening^ Both signified that one 
should come early and not stay late ; that is, 
come about seven and leave about ten. Neither 
involved the necessity for full dress, though the 
swallow-tail coat was so common an affair that 
frock coats were the exception rather than the 
rule even for business, for the stereotype gar- 
ment was worn for " Sunday go to meeting" 



Knickerbocker Life. 205 

and visits, until the seams presented a shiny 
appearance, when it was devoted to every day 
wear and was replaced by a new duplicate to 
serve its turn as " very best." This invitation 
to take tea was an en famille entertainment, 
with some form, some ceremony, of course, 
but by contrast with the other it was informal 
and eminently comfortable. This evening 
meal, when the fire burned brightly in the 
cosy back parlor, was a delicious treat to the 
forlorn homeless bachelor, compelled to eke 
out an existence on boarding-house or even 
hotel fare. 

The tempting repast was artistically ar- 
ranged on a highly-polished mahogany table, 
under the immediate superintendence of the 
young ladies who prided themselves on this 
domestic accomplishment. The family silver 
urns and service, burnished to the nicest point, 
looked grand when surrounded by the shining 
white and gilt cups and saucers ; the cake bas- 
ket fairly groaned beneath its pyramid of 
dainty varieties ; the cut-glass dishes filled with 
luscious sweetmeats flanked by shortcake, bis- 
cuit, toast, dried beef, tongue, cheese, all 
in harmonious order. When all were duly 
seated around the inviting board, the frag- 



2o6 Last Days of 

rant steaming Bohea and Mocha had been 
poured out and distributed, each one having 
been asked, tea or coffee ? sugar and cream ? 
by the presiding lady of the domain, cheerful 
chat ruled, and a more delightful hour never 
fell to the lot of mortal man to enjoy. No 
bustle, no confusion, no hurry hither and thither 
of servants ; simple, pleasant prattle — possibly 
the slightest imaginable sprinkle of the latest 
on dit, but that was quickly restrained by a 
look from headquarters, lest any inconsiderate 
scandal should by the merest accident emanate 
from that family circle. 

The female element usually predominated at 
the social tea-parties, and no matter what 
special topics might casually be introduced, the 
great question raised in the Garden of Eden, 
what shall we wear ? yet undisposed of, invari- 
ably came up for discussion. The dry-goods 
stores were visited, patterns solicited, and, fur- 
ther still, the trade was then so limited that 
whole pieces of material and nouveautes of 
value were sent to the homes of customers and 
allowed to remain for days to be critically 
passed upon, so that the final selection should 
be a deliberate act, not to be repented of. As 
an illustration : A now prominent importer 



Knickerbocker Life. 207 

received two French cashmere shawls, pro- 
nounced the most exquisite productions of the 
loom. The important fact soon became noised 
abroad, and to possess one of these treasures 
was the rage of the hour, for with the then 
ruling moderate tone, the wearer would be dis- 
tinguished " not for a day," but through long 
succeeding years. 

These much-coveted gems were by request 
sent to the residence of a lady, and after due 
deliberation were purchased by two friends who 
were leaders in society ; one, the wife of a 
prominent merchant whose ancestors held high 
rank in the councils of the nation, and the 
other, the mother of a distinguished divine and 
Chancellor of the University. Both shawls 
are still in the possession of their respective 
descendants, and are exhibited with more pride 
than the endless variety of costly wraps which 
their unlimited wealth has enabled them to 
purchase. These cashmere shawls were worn 
with pride ; why not ? they were known to be 
the only ones in the city. Philosophers may 
sermonize on the folly and sinfulness of dress, 
but women pay but little heed to their lugubri- 
ous strains. Men may talk of " the lovely 
young Lavinia," so exquisitely unadorned, but 



2o8 Last Days of 

when they are taken unawares by an elegantly 
dressed woman, their fine-spun theories vanish 
into thin air, and the coldest of them are forced 
to acknowledged that a well-ordered dress is a 
prodigious improvement upon natural charms. 
Men do not pause to analyze their various emo- 
tions when in the presence of a woman they 
admire ; but if like the botanist they should 
destroy the lovely vision to learn its structure, 
they would find that not a little of their impres- 
sion was due to the well-arrang-ed costume. 
Men of culture and refinement feel a sense of 
safety in the house of a well-dressed woman, 
which any amount of attention on the part of 
one carelessly attired would fail to engender. 
The true woman knows by intuition that 
the secret of her power lies in appropriate cos- 
tume, with decoration " costly as the purse can 
buy," and what woman is so conscientiously 
rich in personal magnetism that she can afford 
to lay aside the sceptre of her power ? for 
nothing so stamps the personality, and imbues 
the possessor with more respect than an habit- 
ual elegant attire. Especially in the presence 
of the young does it add to that sense of vener- 
ation which is the chief strongrhold on the 
affections, and enables the mother to hold her 



Knickerbocker Life. 209 

elevating sway over the impetuosity of youth. 
Our grandmothers studied and appreciated this 
matter of dress, and that they turned it to good 
account is verified by the fact that they are 
not forgotten, — they still live in their stiff bro- 
cades and ruffs. They dressed for effect, and 
on all occasions evinced that satisfied confidence 
of manner which encircles a woman who feels 
herself well dressed ; for affectation arises 
oftener from a dissatisfied idea of not looking 
well, than from any desire to ape the peculiari- 
ties of another, and especially is this the case 
after the first bloom of youth has passed away. 
The invitation " to spend the evening " was 
a near approach to what would now be called 
a party. The routine comprised a dance, that 
is, the solemn cotillon — for the modern round 
dance was considered unchaste even on the 
stage, and the modest " Augusta " was com- 
pelled to display the poetry of motion to ad- 
miring males alone ; — a song or two, " Gaily 
the Troubadour," " Home, Sweet Home," being 
chronic favorites ; conversation, the last situa- 
tion of the " Solitary Horseman, " from the pro- 
lific pen of James ; and refreshments " handed 
around." This handing around refreshments 
was a most horrible invention, for it placed a 



2IO Last Days of 

diffident young man not only in a trying but 
in a critical position. To partake was a neces- 
sity ; it would have been considered impolite 
to decline. 

The recollection of the ordeal is frightful 
even now. One hand was occupied in steady- 
ing a cup of boiling-hot tea or coffee, the other 
required to firmly grasp a plate piled with cake 
and sweetmeats, while close beside the bewil- 
dered beau sat a demure demoiselle expecting 
to be entertained with a limpid flow of conver- 
sation. To sip the steaming fluid without 
spilling a drop was something of a task ; but 
to accomplish the feat while intently watching 
the plate of liquid sweets, lest by an unlucky 
slant the contents should glide to trowsersand 
thence flow over the best Brussels, required a 
dexterity and a nerve which would reflect 
credit on the most expert juggler. The climax 
was reached when, as was frequently the case, 
the eye of a doting parent was scrutinizing 
every movement with an all-absorbing interest. 
The fearful performance seemed interminable 
ere one was relieved by the servant, who under 
instructions smilingly inquired if you would be 
helped to another half-hour of mental and phys- 
ical discomfort. " No, I thank you ; nothing 



Knickerbocker Life. 2 1 1 

more," was uttered in all sincerity, accompanied 
by an inward prayer of thankfulness that the 
evening was spent without positive disaster. 

A writer in Putnam s Monthly has discoursed 
eloquently on the magnificent entertainments 
given in the manor-houses of New York, — at 
the Walton House, the Kipp Mansion, etc., in 
Dutch and colonial times. He mentions the 
display of massive family silver emblazoned 
with coats-of-arms, and says an expensive and 
elegant style of living began already to take 
place in New York. He notes a recherche 
breakfast given to John Adams when on his 
way through the city to attend the first Con- 
gress, and describes how the simple New Eng- 
lander was struck by the opulence which met his 
eye in every direction. And yet the same au- 
thority says : " It is evident from his (Adams's) 
journal that he saw little of the best society, as 
he was entertained by two lawyers who had 
grown wealthy by their profession ; in other 
words, they were nouveau richeT The repre- 
sentatives of British power doubtless brought 
over with them the evidences of wealth and the 
appliances of aristocratic luxury, and their style 
of living may have been imitated by a few of 
the Dutch burghers. But they were excep- 



212 Last Days of 

tions ; and if dinner-parties were fashionable 
among them, the custom was very moderately 
followed by their Knickerbocker descendants. 
There were a few gentlemen of Knicker- 
bocker parentage who prided themselves on 
their dinners ; bo7i vivants who had cooks that 
understood how many turns of the spit were 
required to present a canvas-back duck or a 
partridge in the highest possible perfection ; 
men who had educated their tastes to the 
nicest point in Sherries, Ports, Madeiras, and 
Clarets, who appreciated the witching hour of 
twilight, when the business of the day was 
ended ; with inside shutters closed and curtains 
drawn to exclude the bustle of the outer world, 
they could in the society of some chosen com- 
panions smack their lips over a variety of well 
served dainties. " But one swallow does not 
make summer." Knickerbocker life was too 
stable, too uniform, to countenance stag dinner- 
parties, when the consequent orgies would run 
far into the night. That would have been a 
blur upon the home of \ki^ gute Frau under no 
circumstances to be permitted, and there would 
have been precious little enjoyment in a set 
noon repast, which would have to be hurried 
through to enable the participants to return to 



Knickerbocker Life. 2 1 3 

the drudgery of daily toil. The Yankee 
Thanksgiving, with its turkey, cranberry sauce, 
mince, pumpkin, apple pie, and cider, found 
favor with the dames of Knickerbocker procliv- 
ities, who, not to be outdone, had added the 
indigestible doughnut and cruller to the dys- 
pepsia-provoking list. But these grand dinners 
were only informal family gatherings represen- 
tative of all the living generations, including 
the puling babe, — the more the merrier, — at 
which every one present was expected to out- 
eat himself, and only to retire from the table 
when compelled by actual surfeit. An invita- 
tion to dinner was not a rare occurrence ; it, 
however, merely signified that the guest was 
welcome to partake of an abundant but simple 
repast, in nine cases out of ten devoid of dis- 
play, and with rarely any attempt at ostentation. 
Society under Knickerbocker rule was based 
on a strict observance of moderation in every- 
thing. It was a "stickler" for systematic rou- 
tine ; it exacted respect for public opinion in 
every minute particular ; it required the punc- 
tilious observance of its mandate at home and 
abroad ; it deemed that it was proper to attend 
a stated place of worship on the Sabbath ; it 
held that to frequent certain places was wrong ; 



214 Last Days of 

it looked with abhorrence upon the spend- 
thrift ; it condemned the idler ; it believed in 
a straight and narrow path of duty to your 
fellow man ; it aided and encouraged honest 
industry ; its pride was an honored home. 

New York did not become a dancing city 
until the advent of the Teutonic horde. When 
the German element became strong, the Gar- 
den, the Dance, the Song, with the accompany- 
ing " lager," were introduced into every-day 
life, and these rapidly broke through the barri- 
cades with which Dutch dignity and New 
England Puritanism had encircled society. 

Up to the period of this influx from Vater- 
land, Tammany Hall and the Apollo Saloon 
more than suf^ced to meet the terpsichorean 
demand, which was limited by the annual balls 
given by fire companies, military organizations, 
and some few political clubs, who adopted this 
method to replenish their respective treasuries. 
Tammany Hall was the chosen salon of the 
fire-laddies of the old regime ; during the win- 
ter months they congregated there with their 
dulcineas and held high carnival in their own 
peculiar manner. 

This volunteer fire department is not under- 
stood at the present day ; for tradition brands 



Knickerbocker Life. 215 

it as a band of dangerous outlaws, who preyed 
upon the city, unrestrained by discipHne or 
moral force. When the organization was in 
its prime, its roll of membership embraced 
some sixteen hundred names, among which 
could be found some of the most promising 
young and middle-aged men of the city, who 
entered into their duties with a zeal which bor- 
dered on infatuation. The rivalry that existed 
inspired them to deeds of daring and valor. 
Efficient promptness was the aim, and to that 
is due the world-wide reputation accorded to 
the New York firemen for the vim with which 
they performed their perilous and arduous tasks. 
The majority of the force was made up of 
hardy mechanics, who when their toil for the 
day was over, made the engine house a rendez- 
vous to chat over the last run, rub up and pol- 
ish the pet machine,but above all to be in read- 
iness to respond with a will to the first stroke 
of the City Hall bell. In the meantime they 
were well behaved, orderly citizens ; strong, 
active, full of fun and frolic, ready for a race, 
and if need be a tussle, but very far from being 
plunderers or rowdies in the modern sense. 

Some companies were more exclusive than 
others, better educated and more refined, owing 



2 1 6 Last Days of 

to their neighboring associates ; but there was 
an esprit de corps pervading the whole mass 
which acted as a check against open lawlessness 
and insubordination. The engineers and the 
majority of the foremen were well-known re- 
sponsible and respectable citizens. John Riker, 
James Giilick, A. B. Purdy, Elijah F. Lewis, 
Edward Hoffmire, Allen R. Jollie, Edward 
Blanchard, Carlisle Norwood, Sherman Brow- 
nell, the gallant Harry Howard, A. F. Pentz, F. 
R. Lee, Isaac L. Varian, Harmon Westervelt, 
James H. Titus, and hosts of others were effi- 
cient officers of the department, and prominent 
directors in the most responsible insurance 
companies on Manhattan Island. The trouble 
lay in the fact that the outside public did not 
separate the sheep from the goats ; each engine 
house was beset and disgraced by a crowd of 
idle hangers-on, who either begged, borrowed, 
or stole a fire cap and coat, and who during a 
conflagration or a race to reach the scene, 
pressed into the ranks, and committed depreda- 
tions or acts of violence which reflected seri- 
ously upon the entire organization, which was 
not only expected to do its whole duty in sub- 
duing a conflagration but also to act as police 
and preserve the public peace. 



Knickerbocker Life. 217 

A considerable element in the department 
was composed of a class known as " Bowery 
boys," peculiar in dress, gait, manner, tone ; 
an inimitable species of the race, attempted 
for some time to be copied on the stage, but 
the portraiture was either so weak or so grossly 
exaggerated as scarcely to be recognized. 
These " B'hoys " had fashions of their own, 
which they adhered to with all the tenacity of 
a reigning belle ; they were the most consum- 
mate dandies of the day, though they affected to 
look upon a Broadway swell with most decided 
contempt. The hair of the b'hoy or fire-laddie 
was one of his chief cares, and from appearance 
the engrossing object of his solicitude. At 
the back of the head it was cropped as close 
as scissors could cut ; while the front locks, 
permitted to grow to considerable length, were 
matted by a lavish application of bear's grease, 
the ends tucked under so as to form a roll, and 
brushed until they shone like glass bottles. 
His broad, massive face was closely shaven, as 
beards in any shape were deemed effeminate, 
and so forbidden by their creed ; a black, 
straight, broad-brimmed hat, polished as highly 
as a hot iron could effect, was worn with a pitch 
forward, and a slight inclination to one side, in- 



2 1 8 Last Days of 

tended to Impart a rakish air ; a large shirt collar 
turned down and loosely fastened, school-boy 
fashion, so as to expose the full proportions of a 
thick, brawny neck ; a black frock-coat with 
skirts extending below the knee ; a flashy satin 
or velvet vest, cut so low as to display the en- 
tire bosom of a shirt, often embroidered ; pan- 
taloons tight to the knee, thence gradually 
swelling in size to the bottom, so as nearly to 
conceal a foot usually of most ample dimen- 
sions. 

This stunning make-up was heightened by 
a profusion of jewelry as varied and costly as 
the b'hoy could procure. His rolling swagger- 
ing gait on the promenade on the Bowery ; his 
position, at rest, reclining against a lamp or 
awning post ; the precise angle of the ever- 
present cigar ; the tone of voice, something 
between a falsetto and a growl ; the unwritten 
slang which constituted his vocabulary cannot 
be described. Even the talented Chanfrau, 
after devoted study of the role, failed to come 
up to the full reality in his popular and much 
admired delineation of Mose. 

The b'hoy's female friend, whether wife, 
sister, or sweetheart, was as odd and eccentric 
as her curious protector. Her style of attire 



Knickerbocker Life. 219 

was a cheap but always greatly exaggerated 
copy of the prevailing Broadway mode ; her 
skirt was shorter and fuller ; her bodice longer 
and lower ; her hat more flaring and more 
gaudily trimmed ; her handkerchief more ample 
and more flauntingly carried ; her corkscrew 
curls thinner, longer, and stiffer, but her gait 
and swing were studied imitations of her lord 
and master, and she tripped by the side of her 
beau ideal with an air which plainly said, " I 
know no fear and ask no favor." 

Running with his favorite machine or saun- 
tering on the Bowery, the fire-laddie was a 
most interesting study to the naturalist, but 
on the ball-room floor at Tammany he was 
"seen, felt, and understood," unapproachable, 
"alone in his glory." The b'hoy danced ; to 
dance he required space. " No pent up Utica," 
etc., for his every movement was widespread 
as the swoop of the American eagle, which, by- 
the-bye, was his favorite bird ; the symbol of 
his patriotism ; its effigy was the crowning 
glory of his darling engine. Each cotillon 
was opened by a bow to his partner and 
another to the lady on the right. This bow, 
composed of a twitch, a jerk, and a profound 
salaam, was an affair so grand, so complicated, 



2 20 Last Days of 

that to witness it amply repaid a somewhat 
dangerous visit to one of their festive gather- 
ings. It behooved, however, the outside visi- 
tor to be very cautious and undemonstrative 
while gratifying his curiosity, for the laddies 
were proud, jealous of intruders ; they would 
not brook the slighest approach to a sneer or 
unseemly stare ; but, above all, the Broadway 
exquisite who ventured "within the pale," was 
compelled to be very guarded in his advances 
toward any fair one whose peculiar style he 
might chance for the moment to admire. These 
gaily caparisoned ladies were closely watched 
by their muscular admirers, and any approach 
to familiarity either by word or look was cer- 
tain to be visited by instant punishment of a 
positive nature. 

The pistol and knife now used by the 
modern cowardly bravado were not then in 
voeue, but these formidable braves carried 
fists backed by muscle, which were powerful 
weapons for aggressive purposes. As the 
ball progressed these active, independent 
citizens warmed to their work, and when coats 
became oppressive and burthensome, they 
were, sans cerhnonie, thrown aside, and the 
exercises continued in shirt sleeves of bright 



Kn ukerbocker L ife. 221 

red flannel. Most of the b'hoys wore " dickies," 
an almost irreconcilable deception, but ac- 
counted for from the fact that the red flannel 
shirt was the prominent article of the uniform. 
It was always donned that the b'hoy might be 
prepared for the magic cry of, " Fire ! fire ! 
turn out ! turn out ! " for at the welcome 
sound he bounded like a deer from awning- 
post, work-shop, or ball-room. Besides, this 
red garment was his hobby ; on its front the 
number of his company was conspicuously 
displayed in muslin figures as a general rule, 
but occasionally embroidered by the hand 
of his lady love in the most elaborate style. 
These magic numerals fixed his identity be- 
yond a doubt, and each was feared or re- 
pected in proportion to the strength of the 
particular clan in which he was enrolled. These 
boys were eminently clannish, and on a given 
signal they rallied for defence or assault, 
without special enquiry as to the cause of action 
or whether the scene of conflict was on a street 
corner or in the ball-room surrounded by their 
respective goddesses. 

Many years ago when the Tammany Hall 
Ball-Room was in its full bloom, a verdant 
youth, fired by an insane idea to see life in all its 



22 2 Last Days of 

phases, resolved to visit the famous rendezvous 
on a certain evening selected by a crack fire 
company for their annual ball. Dressed in the 
trimmest Broadway cut, swallow-tail, straps, 
high choker and all, he entered the door, paid 
his dollar, and then sauntered in among the 
unterrified, expecting to create no slight sen- 
sation in the ranks of the assembled belles of 
the Eastern District by his elaborate make-up. 
He was not wrong as to his surmise in regard 
to sensation, but his premises were not accu- 
rately taken. A red flag is not more effica- 
cious in exciting the ire of a Spanish bull than 
was the rig of a Broadway dandy to arouse the 
pugnacious tendencies of Mose or his ally 
Syksie, and especially when the much despised 
thing intruded itself upon their own stamping- 
ground in the presence of Lize trigged out in 
full regalia. Mose watched with cat-like eye 
the innocent youth who lolled from place to 
place, casting furtive glances hither and thither 
in the hope of meeting the gaze of some 
damsel more plucky than himself, who would 
ask him to join in a festive cotillon. No one, 
however, of the dashing houris took compassion 
on the bashful stranger as dance after dance 
was called by Monsieur De Grand Valle, the 



Knickerbocker Life. 223 

acknowledged ballet master, and who had been 
from the earliest recollection of the oldest 
inhabitant the dancing professor in that special 
locality ; and whether he is still chasseeing 
in his round-toed pumps as merrily as ever, 
Quien sabe f 

It would have been well for the self-invited 
stranger if he had retired with disgust at the 
lack of courtesy on the part of managers and 
the assembled company. He did quit the fas- 
cinating scene several times, but only to return 
to the charge fortified by stimulants imbibed 
for the purpose of rallying his nerve. In due 
time the ardent produced the desired effect ; 
his courage mounted to the proper standard to 
meet even the risk of a decided refusal, and he 
boldly requested the most timid wall-flower he 
could select, to honor him with her hand for the 
ensuing dance. The coy damsel complied with 
apparent willingness, and the pair were soon 
gliding through the intracies of " balance to 
your partner " and " forward two." The jig 
was speedily over, and the courageous swain es- 
corted his fascinating partner to her seat, over- 
joyed at his success, resolving in his mind 
whether it would not be manly to do the thing 
over again, and then invite her to the sup- 



2 24 Last Days of 

per-room as a finishing stroke of gallantry. 
'^ U homme propose ; Dieu disposed The ad- 
venturous hero had scarcely time to make his 
obeisance when he found himself tossed to and 
fro, as the dry leaf is whirled by the wintry 
blast. The cause of this sudden tumult no 
one deigned to tell. " Hustle him out !" was 
obeyed by as many red shirts as could possibly 
assist at the operation, which was executed as 
rapidly as the dense crowd would allow. The 
door having been passed, the scared youth was 
seized by the neck with a powerful grip and 
hurried to the stairs leading to the floor below, 
which he soon reached through the impetus im- 
parted by a well-directed kick, when he picked 
up his considerably rumpled person amid the 
jeers and taunts of his tormentors. Under such 
circumstances home was the much desired goal, 
and before retiring to rest, in conning over the 
disastrous events, and in taking account of the 
profit and loss of the adventure, the youthful 
traveller " in ways that are dark " found that 
he had left one skirt of his swallow-tail in the 
possession of the enemy, but, per contra, no 
bones were broken, no reporters present. So 
the trifling loss was carried to experience ac- 
count, which all young men should carefully 



Knickerbocker Life. 225 

keep for reference, not for the purpose of 
advising younger brothers, but to profit by the 
entries there noted down. 

The Apollo Bail-Room, on the east side of 
Broadway near the junction of Canal Street, 
was a far more pretentious saloon than Tam- 
many. Being on Broadway there was a marked 
mixture of classes, and candor compels the ad- 
mission that " calico and check apron " was the 
prevailing type so far as the female patrons 
were concerned, while the male element can 
safely be classed as democratic. It was not 
deemed proper that those who wished to be 
considered ladies and gentlemen should be 
present at public balls ; so, in consequence of 
this provision in the Knickerbocker statutes, 
fashionable Young America was compelled to 
be extremely cautious lest his visits to the 
Apollo be discovered in aristocratic circles ; 
but, above all, that they eluded the argus eyes 
of the powers at home, who not only were re- 
sponsible for his morals but controlled the 
purse-strings, and would surely for such a 
breach of decorum cut off the supply of dollars 
in a most summary way. But love has always 
laughed at bolts and bars ; so love of fun and 
frolic inspired staid Knickerbocker youths to 



2 26 Last Days of 

break through stringent rules to take the 
chances ; and as fruits of disobedience they en- 
joyed many a Hvely dance, with lots of nice 
flirtations in the society of cheerful, bright-eyed 
milliners and dressmakers who hailed from the 
classic region of Division Street, not reared 
under the strict code which governed west of 
Broadway. 

For the life of them, these New York gri- 
settes could see no possible harm in the society 
of a juvenile exquisite who became wild with 
the idea that he was indulging in contraband 
pleasure. The innocent and fascinating creat- 
ures enjoyed listening to the recital of the 
schemes necessary to compass the undertak- 
ing ; they laughed boisterously about the du- 
plicate basement key, procured at the greatest 
possible risk, with only Betty or Dinah in the 
secret, by means of which the "pattern," who 
was supposed to be peacefully slumbering 
under the parental roof, could slip in ere his 
doting parents were astir. The boy in turn 
was carried away by so much sympathetic 
interest, and longed for the time to pass when 
they could meet again and talk over fresh 
difficulties surmounted. Such reminiscences 
will bring back the Old Apollo to many a man 



K -i '-n 




EUTERPIAN HALL, BROADWAY, KNOWN AS THE APOLLO ROOMS, 183O. 



Knickerbockei'- Life 227 

whose dancing days are over, who can recall 
the substantial iron key which had to be so 
carefully inserted, so daintily turned, lest the 
slightest noise should lead to detection ; how 
closely he clung to the baluster to avoid any 
tell-tale creak ; how he held his breath while 
passing the front bedroom door ; how ner- 
vously he listened when his own apartment 
was reached, to be surely satisfied that all was 
thus far safe ; but, above all, will he remember 
the painful sense of relief he experienced when 
breakfast was over, and no doubtful questions 
had been proposed from either the head or the 
foot of the table and Betty had proved faithful 
and neither snickered nor looked wise. 

One v»rinter a bold attempt was made to 
overturn the established law. Young America 
in solemn conclave resolved to dance openly 
and above board, if possible, and to do away 
with underground fun and frolic : — to compass 
that end, to leave nothing undone, to obtain 
parental acquiescence by honorable means, to 
merit the approbation of mammas, and per- 
chance gain the active support of the leaders 
in society, though it was well understood the 
movement would meet with determined oppo- 
sition from dominie and elder, who looked 



2 28 Last Days of 

upon the dance as sinful in itself, besides 
being a waste of time which should be de- 
voted to higher and nobler purposes. For 
these worthies carried their views on the sub- 
ject so far, that they would rise and leave a 
little coterie gathered in a family parlor if the 
young people ventured to form a cotillon in 
their presence. In spite, however, of this an- 
tagonistic element, the Ladies' Dining-Room 
of the City Hotel was secured for the purpose 
of giving a series of sociables, at which none 
but subscribers, and those the crhne de la 
a^eme, should be admitted. Tickets, limited 
in number, positively not transferable, and at 
the then exorbitant figure of twenty-five dol- 
lars for the series of five, were issued. A com- 
mittee of men, well known to be good and 
true, was chosen as arbitrary managers, with 
full power to insure the most perfect decorum 
and propriety. John Charruaud was selected 
as general supervisor and floor manager ; and 
as he had taupfht the grrandmothers, mothers, 
and daughters of the city all the poetry of 
motion which Gotham then could boast of, 
that choice left no room for cavil. 

The City Hotel reunions were pronounced a 
success. Many noted beauties of the day hon- 



Knickerbocker Life. 229 

ored them with their presence and the com- 
pany was admitted to be as select as though 
congregated in a private parlor by special in- 
vitation. Still, notwithstanding all the pre- 
cautions taken, the admitted fact that every 
detail was comme il faut, that nothing occurred 
which could possibly wound the most sensitive, 
New York was not yet prepared to endorse 
the threatened inroad on the established idea 
of female seclusiveness. The old-time dow- 
agers, backed by the minister, denounced the 
sociables, pronounced them a breach of de- 
corum, tossed their caps and emphasized " in- 
delicate " when the names of some fair ones 
chanced to be mentioned in their presence, 
who had patronized these efforts to enhance 
social life and innocent enjoyment. The bat- 
tle for supremacy was bravely waged on both 
sides, but the old ladies beat Young America, 
and the City Hotel sociables were discon- 
tinued. 

Under such circumstances what was male 
Young America, out of his teens, to do ? He 
had discovered that the Tammanyites were by 
far too pugnacious, too set in their peculiar 
views for comfort, that Charruaud's monthly 
gatherings were little else than school exhibi- 



230 Last Days of K^iicker backer Life. 

tions, gotten up to tickle the amour propre of 
doting mothers, invariably present to be as- 
sured that no mirth should meddle with the 
serious, smileless business of the decorous co- 
tillon, — so staid, that Charlie, Dick, or Tom 
was forced to "cut his pigeon wings" with 
theological sobriety ; any juvenile antic which 
might cause a faint glimmer to light up the 
placid features of Mary Jane or Catharine 
Ann, was sure to be detected by the watchful 
Minervas, and the thouo-htless little belles were 
frowned on as a punishment for their levity. 
So, perforce, as a last resource, to find some 
vent for the love of sport that was in us, we 
were driven to the Apollo to enjoy a rollick- 
ing dance, free from unnatural restraints of un- 
yielding formality, but always kept within 
proper bounds by that civility which regulates 
American assemblages where woman is pres- 
ent. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Park Theatre described — The pit the jury box — 
Mr. and Mrs. Wood from England provoke a local 
international cataclysm — Manager Simpson alarmed 
— Mrs. Wood saves the day and captures the audience 
— The Park Theatre orchestra — The modest con- 
ductor — Mr. Drum and his odd ways — English Opera 
— Mrs. Austin — Harry Placide — William F. Brough — 
Galaxy of stars — Mrs. Wheatley — Mrs. Vernon — 
Misses Emma Wheatley and Clara Fisher — The old 
time Ballet — Mrs. Gurner — Mrs. Barry — Miss Char- 
lotte Cushman's rise and progress — Miss Wheatley's 
marriage with Mr. James Mason — Her farewell per- 
formance at which Junius Brutus Booth makes a 
characteristic speech — Mrs. Mason's misfortune — Her 
return to the stage — Her death — Harry Placide's art — 
Tyrone Power — Charles Kean's first appearance at the 
Park — His performance of Richard HI. — The elder 
Booth in the audience — Audibly commends young 
Kean. 

THERE were four theatres in the city, i.e., 
the Park, American (now Bowery), 
FrankHn, and Richmond Hill. The Park, 

231 



232 Last Days of 

situated on Park Row, between Ann and 
Beekman Streets, was erected in 1798, but 
was burnt and rebuilt in 1821, and was calcu- 
lated to contain about 2,500 persons when 
filled to its utmost capacity. Under the man- 
agement of Simpson and Price it was the ac- 
knowledged histrionic temple not only of New 
York but of the United States. A successful 
engagement played on its stage, served as the 
" ope7i sesame'' to all others in the country, and 
a hearty endorsement by Park audiences 
operated as a sure quietus to rural criticism, 
not excepting Boston. The architecture of 
the building could not be classed under the head 
of any known order ; it simply presented to the 
eye a wall front of bricks and plaster with 
windows and doors pierced here and there as 
convenience or circumstance dictated ; it might 
have been taken for a barrack, store-house, or 
Methodist meeting, had it not been for a statue 
representing the " Bard of Avon," thoughtfully 
placed over the main entrance to proclaim its 
special dedication to the Muses. 

Its interior arrangements, decorations, and 
appointments will appear niggardly and mean, 
perhaps ridiculous, by contrast with the pala- 
tial homes of the drama now reared in every 




''^^ 



^ ? 






^^m 



jf ' ■ ^ ^v 



Knickerbocker Life. 22,2, 

section of the city, in the decoration and em- 
bellishment of which such vast sums are annu- 
ally expended to satisfy the taste for luxury 
characteristic of the present hour. The en- 
trances to the Park were narrow and dingy, 
the lobbies uncarpeted and dark ; for the source 
of light, an oil lamp, was not calculated to 
produce a dazzling effect. Brilliant illumina- 
tion, however, was not requisite to display 
elaborate frescoes, choice marbles, or artistic 
mouldings ; the old Park lobbies were as plain 
as the trowel and saw could make them. The 
walls were tinted first one color and then an- 
other with apparently no other object or aim 
than to hide dirt, and vary the monotony ; so 
the primitive tools used to rejuvenate and re- 
decorate the temple were the scrubbing brush 
and the white-, yellow-, or blue-wash brush, 
while the artists employed were good old 
darkies who did their work faithfully for the 
consideration of six shillings per diem. The 
auditorium consisted of three tiers of boxes 
and the pit. The settees of the first and sec- 
ond tier were furnished with backs and the 
seats covered with dark moreen, an article pro- 
nounced everlasting and warranted not to fade ; 
they were narrow, straight, and hard, so it re- 



234 Last Days of 

quired good acting to enable one to sit out a 
performance. 

The pit was occupied exclusively by the 
sterner sex, and was reached by a narrow sub- 
terranean passage, admirably planned to suit 
the operations of pickpockets, for two abreast 
stopped the way. Its furniture consisted of 
long, unbacked, stationary benches, uncush- 
ioned and roughly planed at that, with barely 
room between to crowd by, to say nothing of 
any possible extensions of limb. Such accom- 
modations offered no attractions to the gentler 
sex, whose descendants in the female line now 
pay extra prices to lounge on the cushioned 
chairs of the aristocratic parquette, and on the 
sofas of the choice orchestra stalls, for they 
have lately discovered that this formerly de- 
spised pit was the spot not only to see and 
hear, but also to be seen. The Park pit was 
not the " hi, hi," place which many may picture 
It, and it must not be associated with the pea- 
nuts and slang which are so apt to be linked 
with its name. It was no bar to respectability 
to be seen there, that is to say, by those who 
were seated in the boxes ; for to frequent the 
theatre at all was deemed sinful by a large and 
influential class of citizens. The pit ruled the 



Knickerbocker Life. 235 

judgment of the house, for the critics and 
reporters congregated there, and the actor 
knew where the jury was seated upon whose 
verdict his future on the American stage largely 
depended. Those jurymen as a rule were dis- 
passionately correct, seldom permitted their 
decisions to be warped by prejudice or national 
feeling ; fair play and no favor was the senti- 
ment apt to be unanimous. One prominent 
exception when the old Park pit was divided 
it may perhaps not be amiss to relate, as 
upon that special occasion there was exhibited 
on the part of the audience a wild excitement, 
and a riotous disposition was manifested which 
has no parallel in the annals of the Park 
Theatre. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wood, celebrated operatic 
performers of the time, had made one or 
more trips across the Atlantic and had become 
great favorites with New York audiences. 
The lady especially was not only admired as an 
artist of great merit, but respected by the 
public as a virtuous, true woman. On their 
passage to this country to fulfil an engagement 
at the Park, entered into with Mr. Price in 
England, they chanced to have for a fellow- 
passenger a New York editor, who was famous 



236 Last Days of 

for his pugnacious tendencies. As a matter 
of course, on the then usual protracted voyage, 
people who were not affected with chronic sea- 
sickness became acquainted, so our editor and 
Wood proved no exceptions to the rule. On 
a certain day of the trip, when other topics 
chanced to flag, England and the United States 
by some accident loomed up as the subject of 
a discussion. Point by point the old contro- 
versies were gone over to while away the tedious 
hours ; but ere the pow-wow came to an end, 
both had warmed up to the importance of the 
issue to be then and there settled. " Rule 
Britannia" versus "Yankee Doodle" stood 
facing each other with menacing look and 
gesture across the narrow table ; the gauntlet 
of war was thrown down and promptly accepted. 
Yankee swore that John should be hissed from 
the New York stage ; John defied these edi- 
torial slanders, and sneered at the pretended 
power of his wrathy adversary. 

In this belligerent mood both landed, and 
at once set about marshalling their respective 
forces for this trial of strength. Citizens were 
soon apprized of these threatened hostilities 
and the theatre office was besieged with eager 
applicants for tickets, so great was the anxiety 



Knickerbocker" Life. 237 

to be present on Wood's opening night and 
witness the skirmishing between the high op- 
posing parties. Despite the soHcitations of 
the peaceful Simpson and the cahn arguments 
of Treasurer Blake, the editorial thunderer 
daily vented his wrath in a leading column of 
his mammoth sheet : — while he lived to spill 
ink and use up harmless goose-quills, no 
•' British hireling" should ruffle the feathers of 
the American Eagle and go unwhipped. The 
United States Bank, the tariff", the coming 
election, were all for the time "dead cocks in 
the pit," for he had vowed the English actor 
should be hissed from the stage. 

On the never-to-be-forgotten opening night, 
the house was packed from footlights to gal- 
lery. All were orderly in the dense assem- 
blage ; nothing noticeable save the unusual 
circumstance that there was scarcely a woman 
to be seen in the crowded audience. There 
was a buzz as the orchestra struck up the over- 
ture to the appointed opera, nothing more ; 
and when it was concluded the pit, as was 
customary, awarded its accustomed quota of 
applause. As soon as this usual demonstration 
had subsided the green baize drop was slowly 
furled as a signal that the performance was 



238 Last Days of 

about to commence. To describe with any ac- 
curacy the scene which followed is an impossi- 
bility. Clapping of hands, stamping of feet, 
accompanied by cheers, groans, hisses. Cries 
of " Wood ! Wood ! " seemed to issue simulta- 
neously from three thousand masculine throats, 
and created a din which made the old shell 
tremble. In response to this somewhat sin- 
gular, but by no means unexpected call, Wood 
appeared at the wing, and with an apparently 
firm tread walked to the footlights, but after 
facing the storm for a moment his confidence 
was shaken and he beat a hasty retreat. 

Mr. Simpson, the popular manager, accom- 
pained him to the front on his second at- 
tempt, and with supplicating bow and gesture 
essayed to still the tumult. He displayed a 
placard which announced that he and Mr. 
Wood desired to be heard in their defence ; 
but manager, Wood, and placard were forced to 
retire without effecting their object. Still the 
yells were continuous, but the curtain was not 
lowered as a signal of defeat. Wood was not 
willing to abandon the field to his adversary 
without one more attempt. He again strode 
with marked determination to the footlights, 
but was not only received with a volley of un- 



Knickerbocker Life. 239 

earthly yells ; missiles were hurled at him by 
the habitues of the third tier. Then ensued a 
scene which perhaps has often been described 
in sensational novels, but one which is seldom 
enacted in every-day life, and witnessed by 
thousands of spectators. So soon as this new 
danger presented itself Mrs. Wood rushed to 
the front and threw her woman's form between 
her husband and his assailants. The effect 
produced by the sudden movement on her part 
was electrical. Such ringing cheers as greeted 
the noble woman never before or since rang 
within the walls of a theatre, and the "pitites" 
of the Old Park gave her round after round of 
applause, with a vim which drowned the contin- 
ued hisses of the "gods" and soon deterred 
them from further attempts at bodily harm. 
The pit had been divided by prejudice for and 
against Wood, but that sentiment quickly 
vanished when the self-sacrificing wife tearfully 
pleaded for mercy in behalf of her rash and hot- 
headed husband. 

Far from being an educated musician, the 
writer feels that he cannot do full justice to the 
talented orchestra of the Park ; no special 
wrong, however, can be committed by en- 
deavoring, after the lapse of years, to describe 



240 Last Days of 

a select number of worthy men, who night after 
night were punctually at their posts, and de- 
liofhted us with choice selections from the 
"Bronze Horse" or accompanied Chapman 
with accepted skill when he thrilled his audi- 
tors with the pathetic ballad entitled the 
" Teetotal Society." 

The leader of the band was seated a very 
trifle above his subordinates ; he did not wield 
a magic baton and swing it wildly about as is 
the habit of modern conductors ; neither did 
he wriggle and twist, but looked straight ahead, 
fiddling right along from page to page, until 
the little bell told him to stop. His repertoire 
was not extensive, but satisfied the popular 
craving ; old acquaintances in music, as well as 
in everything else, were welcome, and he would 
always answer an encore without going through 
the ceremony of bowing right and left, and 
save himself the trouble of placing his hand 
upon the supposed region of his impulsive, 
artistic heart. The violin of the leader was 
sustained by a flute, cornet, trombone, bass 
viol, violincello, clarionet, cymbals, and drums, 
all common instruments, all save one played on 
by ordinary men, and that one the man who 
officiated during many years in the drum de- 



Kn icker backer L ife. 2 4 1 

partment, which was located in the left hand 
corner of the orchestra. The operator on the 
two drums was a character who beyond a doubt 
opened his eyes in London, for Cockney was 
unmistakably stamped around and about his 
dumpy person from top to toe. His patro- 
nymic not having been handed down, it is most 
fittine that he should hereafter be known as 
Mr. Drum. 

Drum was short and stout, his large round 
head was bald and shining at the top, his eyes 
were small and inclined to be watery, his apo- 
plectic face was closely shaven, his nose was 
stubby and highly colored, his mouth made to 
fit any pewter mug manufactured. A black 
silk stock occupied the narrow space between 
his ears and shoulders, where it was met by 
the glazed collar of a snuff-brown coat, which 
enveloped his barrel-shaped body to the point 
at which it was hidden from the public gaze 
by the formidable instruments upon which it 
was his nightly duty to hammer most unmerci- 
fully. Drum must have been the possessor of 
a wonderful memory, so far as drum music was 
concerned, for if he used notes they were never 
exposed, but like those of extempore preachers, 
artistically concealed. During his rests he was 



242 Last Days of 

the personificaiton of lethargy ; he sat on his 
stool with closed eyes, apparently dead to all 
surroundings ; but, when time was called, he 
delivered his well-directed blows with a will, 
which compelled the trombone man to put 
forth every human effort, that the concord of 
sweet sounds mio:ht be maintained. When 
the leader favored us with the overture to the 
" Bronze Horse," Drum seemed to wake from 
his stupor as if fully aware that the main success 
of that grand composition depended upon the 
free exercise of his wonderful beating powers. 
Wind and string instruments were nowhere in 
the struggle when he was surely aroused. 
Drum had a " full hand," he " played it alone," 
and would never have tired had not his well- 
trained ear caught the tinkle of that little bell 
hidden somewhere in the depths below, when 
down fell the sticks, and the man of energy 
sank back motionless until again called into 
action by the tiny monitor behind the green 
baize curtain. 

From the prominence given to Mr. Drum it 
must not be inferred that the Park orchestra 
was destitute of real musical talent, for hun- 
dreds will not fail to recall one of its number, 
Alexander Kyle, who for years was the cham- 



Knickerbocker Life. 243 

plon flute-player in America, and many are 
doubtless living who time and again honored 
him with a hearty encore when a solo on that 
instrument chanced to be a feature of the musi- 
cal entertainment. 

The patrons of the Park were fond of Eng- 
lish opera, and were occasionally favored even 
when no foreign singing-bird of high repute 
was available. Cinderella long held the front 
rank in popular favor, and was produced by 
the stock companies without the aid of any 
particular star. On such occasions Mrs. Aus- 
tin, a pretty, pert actress, with a sweet voice 
of no inconsiderable cultivation, was the prima 
donna. Mr. Jones, the standing tenor of the 
company, sang the role of the " Prince " very ac- 
ceptably. Jones was a singing-master but no 
actor, while Harry Placide, a great actor but 
no vocalist, was the " Baron Pumpolino " on all 
occasions. William F. Brough was for a con- 
siderable period attached to the Park as a sing- 
ing member, and was always so complaisant as 
to indulge the musical critics of the pit by 
favoringf them with " The Wolf." This famous 
ballad was so intensely guttural in tone that it 
called into requisition the full power of the 
trombone as a fitting accompaniment in those 



244 Last Days of 

lower depths reached by the powerful organ of 
the great basso profundo. Opera was, how- 
ever, the exception in the varied list of enter- 
tainment at the Park. 

Stars of the first theatrical magnitude were 
engaged in the London market, many of whom 
met with such success as to frequently repeat 
their visits, while some among them never re- 
turned to their native country. Among the 
first mentioned occur the names of Cooke, 
Young, Edmund Kean, Charles Kemble, 
Tyrone Power, Sinclair, Miss Ellen Tree, 
Fanny Kemble, with lesser luminaries, who in 
turn appeared ; while Cooper, Junius Brutus 
Booth, Vandenhoff, J. W. Wallack, John and 
Charles Mason were among the stars who 
fancied our semi-barbarous manners and cus- 
toms, and settled among the Yankees. 

It was, however, in the stock company at- 
tached to the Park that our interest centred, 
for it was to that we were indebted for our real 
theatrical treats. 

In a troupe where all were fixed stars, differ- 
ing only in degree of excellence, but unsur- 
passed at the time in their several specialties ; 
who have played together on the same stage 
for so long a period, that they appeared more 



Knickerbocker Life. 245 

like a family group congregated for their own 
amusement, than merely actors and actresses 
whose vocation was to please the public for 
a passing hour, it would be ungenerous to 
make exceptions. So far as memory serves all 
shall have a short notice for " auld lang syne." 
" Place aux dames, '' has always been an Ameri- 
can sentiment, Mesdames Wheatley, Vernon, 
Gurner, Austin, Barry, Misses Charlotte Cush- 
man, Emma Wheatley, Clara Fisher were the 
much admired deities of young Gothamites, 
who constituted themselves their knights when 
the beauty or talents of these ladies were called 
in question by any outside barbarian who ven- 
tured upon adverse criticism. 

Their judgment may have been just in the 
slightest degree one-sided, enthusiastic praise of 
this or that particular role, just a little strained ; 
but their equals cannot be culled from the ranks 
of any company now on the New York stage. 

No one of the ladies was a distinguished 
blonde ; a tow-head was not the rage ; high 
civilization had not introduced the unveiled 
beauties of the Black Crook school ; — the 
"Highland Fling" in ruffled pantalets, by a 
miss not far advanced in her teens proved an 
all-sufficient excitement, for the "Mazourka" 



246 Last Days of 

in heavy silk skirt reaching far below the knee 
brought the fan into general use ; caused a sud- 
den desire for absorbing conversation, and the 
danseuse was only awarded sly, stolen glances 
from the boxes ; no patting of tiny hands, no 
waving of handkerchiefs, no determined stare 
through powerful lorgnettes, no smiles of wild 
delight when her artistic display was ended. 
This timidity on the part of the ladies present 
may be ascribed to a squeamish affectation, or 
to a sad lack of taste in not admiring the beau- 
ties of nature, — no matter what its cause it did 
exist, and modesty manifested itself ; and the 
audiences of the Old Park enjoyed a sterling 
comedy or drama with a hearty appetite, with 
a simple relish which required no doubtful spice 
to enhance gratification. 

Mrs. Wheatley, the mother of William and 
Emma, was the theatrical matron, duchess, and 
queen of the company. She was a lady of 
marked presence, of portly, commanding figure, 
possessed a pleasant, expressive face, an agree- 
able voice, always modulated to a nicety to the 
requirements of her assumed character, and 
ever perfectly at home in the varied roles she 
was called upon to assume. Confident of ap- 
preciation by the audience she evinced that com- 



Knickerbocker Life. 247 

posure of manner on the stage which was one 
of her pecuHar attractions in private Hfe. Far 
above mediocrity in every part assigned her, 
the personation of the fussy, towering dame in 
old Enghsh comedy was her crowning effort ; 
and in these deHneations she was never out- 
ranked during her protracted career. Fresh, 
cheerful, active, she seemed to keep pace with 
all changes, was at her post seemingly without 
ache or pain, and gave every outward sign that 
she was a century plant ; and she did bloom 
long after the last vestige of the Park had 
passed away. 

Death has withdrawn Mrs. Vernon from the 
stage, and we have thus far looked in vain to 
catch a glimpse of a successor worthy to fill her 
place on the boards. The present generation 
have too often applauded, nay cheered the 
genial, mirth-provoking old lady to need any 
reminder of her unsurpassed ability in a line of 
character which she early appropriated, and to 
which she uninterruptedly clung during the 
more than half century of her theatrical life. 
The Fisher family, from which she sprang, has 
long been noted for the marked stage ability 
of its members, especially in light comic roles ; 
but, as will readily be recalled, the family was 



248 Last Days of 

not celebrated for beauty either in the male or 
female line. Mrs. Vernon's portraiture of the 
soubrette, shrew, spicy old maid, and female 
Paul Pry, will ever be held in high esteem, not 
only by the ancien regime, but by the habitues 
of Wallack's at the present time, who had the 
gratification of witnessing her piquant, rollick- 
ing style, inimitable to the last, even though it 
had become slightly blunted by the rubs of 
" three score years and ten." 

Mrs. Gurner, another of these favorites, did 
not possess the talent to soar above respecta- 
ble mediocrity. Perfect in part, faultless in 
make-up, she always was eminently satisfac- 
tory, but never astonished her most ardent 
admirer. Pretty, passive, retiring in manner, 
she looked and acted the walking lady, or de- 
pendent female relative to perfection, and if 
by chance absent from her well-determined 
sphere, the sensitive critics in the pit felt the 
loss of her presence and were uncomfortable. 

Mrs. Barry, the stock representative widow 
of dead kings and mother of murdered princes, 
was a large stately dame who did all the heavy 
business with most solemn voice and manner. 
How the lady would have appeared in other 
vesture than the sombre " habiliments of woe," 



Knicke7'bocker Life. 249 

or what silvery tones would have greeted the 
ear, had her stage lot not been cast with the 
dire necessity of continually cursing the crook- 
ed-backed Richard, or in uttering loud lamen- 
tations for the "untimely taking off " of her 
Henry and Edward, cannot even be surmised. 
For whenever she was in the cast, the night 
was sure to be devoted to the performance of 
" deeds of dreadful note " ; and as a natural 
consequence of her presence the orchestra was 
compelled to intone one or more funeral 
dirges. Undertakers are reported to be a 
cheerful, merry class when unemployed at 
their special calling : that being a fact Mrs. 
Barry may have been " a joy forever " in the 
domestic circle. 

Charlotte Cushman, when but a mere girl, 
appeared on the boards of the old Park. Her 
slow advance in the profession was unnoticed 
even by those who almost nightly were present 
at the performance. On attaining woman- 
hood, her development evinced nothing to ar- 
rest the attention of a casual observer. Her 
voice was harsh, almost masculine in quality, 
her manner brusque, her movements dignified 
and self-possessed ; yet they lacked that pliant 
grace looked for in woman, though at times her 



250 Last Days of 

independent dash and unwonted energy would 
elicit hearty bursts of applause from an au- 
dience which did not anticipate a surprise. The 
critics of the time noticed her performances 
with the greatest respect : " Miss Cushman 
sustained the character of with her accus- 
tomed ability, showing careful study of the 
difficult role," etc., but nothing more. No en- 
thusiasm ; no rapture. By degrees she imper- 
ceptibly strode to the front and was assigned 
leading parts in the " unavoidable absence " of 
some particular star who chanced to be indis- 
posed. Still, even then the wise directors of 
public taste and judgment detected nothing 
which foretold "coming events." They praised 
her sprightly personation of Lady Gay Spanker, 
and when London Assurance was on the bills 
there was sure to be a paying house ; but as 
the cast included Placide, Richings, Fisher, 
Povey, etc., Charlotte, who was the life of the 
piece, was only looked upon as one of a cluster 
of gems. 

So time rolled on ; her talent was tacitly 
admitted, but still she remained year after year 
at the Park, apparently a fixture, both the pub- 
lic and herself seemingly unconscious of the 
spring she was so soon to take, at one bound 



Knickerbocker Life. 251 

to become the leading actress of the EngHsh 
stage, and an honored guest in the highest 
literary circles of Europe and America. " We 
all knew it / " now cry the old-time scribblers, 
as these worthies crowd Young America aside 
at the entrance of Booth's magnificent dramatic 
temple, in their eager haste to witness once 
more before they die her powerful delineation 
of Meg Merrilies. Now, when the full glare 
of her genius has burst upon the world and the 
name and fame of Charlotte Cushman is as 
widespread as was that of the renowned Sid- 
dons, these wiseacres remember that far back 
in Knickerbocker times they saw glimmerings 
of her great future in the artistic personation 
of Mrs. Haller, when at a moment's warning 
Miss Cushman undertook the role ; but they 
do not state why they suffered her to toil on 
in obscurity, or why they permitted trans-At- 
lantic critics first to herald her transcendent 
ability. 

Emma Wheatley made her debut at the Park 
when only a mere child. She first appeared 
as a danseuse, and for a time was aided by 
her sister, who soon withdrew from the stage. 
She was the attraction between the play and 
the after-piece. Miss Wheatley was prepos- 



252 Last Days of 

sessing in face and form ; perfectly satisfactory 
as a dancer and posturant ; modest, unassuming 
in manner, she pleased without ever being in 
any way wonderful. The long-trained eye of 
her talented mother soon discovered that she 
possessed ability too decided to be wasted in a 
mere mechanical routine, and she withdrew her 
from the unsatisfactory rdle. Careful instruc- 
tion, combined with judicious training in the 
business of the stage, soon laid the foundation 
for the exalted position she attained as a de- 
lineator of the highest range of character. 

Miss Wheatley was by nature excessively 
diffident, and at the opening of her career was 
by some critics pronounced too sensitive, too 
nervous in temperament for great success in 
her adopted profession ; while others, among 
whom were Sheridan Knowles, Epes Sargeant, 
and Fitz-Greene Halleck, construed her coy- 
ness and abandon of self as evidences of high 
art. Be that as it may, her style remained 
the same to the close of her theatrical career. 
From the beginning she was encouraged and 
guarded by her watchful mother, and she was 
invariably sustained on the stage by her 
brother William, who was at the time a prom- 
ising young actor and attached to the stock 



Knickerbocker Life. 253 

company of the Park. Her novitiate was emi- 
nently successful. The different journals vied 
with each other in lauding her " Desdemona," 
"Julia," "Mrs. Haller," "Mrs. Beverly," etc., 
and she was fast gathering histrionic garlands 
when she was snatched from the stage by a 
marriage with a fine representative of Young 
America named James Mason, the scion of a 
wealthy family of New York, whose father, 
John Mason, was the then President of the 
Chemical Bank. 

Ere the nuptial knot was tied, the young 
favorite bade adieu to the stage at a compli- 
mentary benefit tendered her in the new Na- 
tional Theatre, on the corner of Leonard and 
Church Streets. Othello was selected as the 
play, and the cast of that evening has never 
been surpassed, if it has been equalled, on the 
stage. Edwin Forrest, then in his zenith, ap- 
peared as the jealous Moor, the great Booth 
was the " lago," James W. Wallack played 
" Cassio," William Wheatley enacted " Rode- 
rigo," Mrs. Sefton was the " Emilia," while the 
"beneficiaire," in her happiest vein delineated 
the gentle " Desdemona." The house was 
crammed ; the audience electrified by the 
efforts of this galaxy of talent. Each star 



2 54 Z^^/ Days of 

was greeted with round upon round of ap- 
plause, and when the curtain fell, all were 
vociferously called to the footlights to receive 
a parting ovation. 

When the curtain was drawn up in response 
to the popular demand, the quick eyes in the 
pit discovered that one planet, or rather one 
comet, was missing from the group, and sudden 
as thought the cry of " Booth ! Booth ! " rang 
through the theatre. The " lago " of the night 
did not appear, and the clamor became more 
intense, but after a few moments of continu- 
ous uproar the popular, erratic genius, already 
half-disrobed, calmly stepped forward to sat- 
isfy his determined admirers. After making 
the customary obeisance he did not at once 
retire, but stood like a statue as if bewildered 
by the storm of excited cheers with which he 
was greeted. "A speech! a speech!" in- 
stantly produced death-like silence as if by 
magic ; the attitude, expression, manner of 
the unapproached actor can only be pictured 
by those who are so fortunate as to have wit- 
nessed his marvellous magnetic powers. He 
seemed riveted to the spot when he realized 
the position in which he had placed himself 
by his momentary abstraction ; his flashing 



Knickerbocker Life. 255 

eye glanced from pit to dome in an instant, 
his foot moved as it was wont to do when 
" Richard" whispers, "I wish the bastards dead ; 
and I would have it suddenly performed," as 
he responded in a clear, ringing, but some- 
what sarcastic tone, " Ladies and gentlemen, 
if you are satisfied, / am,'' and then retired 
amid cheers and peals of boisterous laughter. 

Young and Old America saw Emma Wheat- 
ley withdraw from the stage with many a deep- 
drawn sigh, feeling assured that they would 
not soon "look upon her like again." 

Mrs. Mason, however, did not long enjoy 
the seclusion of private life. The alliance was 
distasteful to the family of her husband, and 
she was too proud to make any advances 
tending to conciliation, and soon all inter- 
course ceased, and the door of his former 
home was barred against him ; but he was a 
favorite with his father, and during the life of 
the latter the young couple were provided 
with the necessaries for subsistence. John 
Mason, full of years, sickened and died, when 
James found himself penniless and disinher- 
ited. He was one of the few young men of 
New York who had been reared in luxury ; 
his education was as refined and elegant as 



256 Last Days of 

money could secure, but with no aim at prac- 
tical utility ; in a word, he was an accomplished 
gentleman, had grown to manhood without 
profession or trade, which was then, and is in 
a great measure now, a certain bar against the 
possibility of earning a livelihood. He had no 
business tact or knowledge, no business circle 
of acquaintance, and as a sequence was as 
helpless as a child. 

Mrs. Mason, like a true woman, did not 
hesitate a moment ; they needed money to 
sustain life, but above all he needed ample 
means to contest his father's will, which he was 
satisfied would be set aside when properly pre- 
sented to the legal tribunals. Terms were 
soon made with Mr. Simpson and her return 
to the boards was greeted by enthusiastic au- 
diences. The suit was commenced ; both de- 
nied themselves everything not absolutely 
needed so that the means should be in hand to 
aid the restoration of the husband's rights in 
his father's immense estate, and the faithful 
wife toiled on, generously patronized by the 
public, until the desired end was accomplished 
and her husband was awarded his unjustly 
withheld fortune. The goal reached, Mrs. 
Mason at once withdrew from the stage with 



Knickerbocker Life. 257 

increased reputation as a finished actress ac- 
companied by unfeigned respect as a noble 
woman. 

One who knew them well can testify how 
cheerfully they bore their protracted doubts, 
privations, and at times actual suffering ; but 
he also had the privilege of being a sharer in 
their bright, childlike anticipations when the 
clouds of adversity seemed to have been dis- 
persed. He can vividly recall their unaffected 
merriment when scene after scene of discom- 
fort through which they had passed was 
recounted in the cosy parlor of their unosten- 
tatious country home, surrounded by the few 
friends who had cheered them in their dark 
hours, and who rejoiced with them in the pros- 
pect of ease and luxury, which, so far as mor- 
tal eye could discern, was decreed to be their 
future lot in life. But sad to relate, ere the 
first blush of prosperity had faded, in the full 
bloom of personal and mental charms, sur- 
rounded by all the appliances that taste and 
devotion could invent to please her refined 
nature, Mrs. Mason was suddenly summoned 
to bid farewell to the man she so fondly loved 
and for whom she had so faithfully, so persist- 
ently struggled. 



258 Last Days of 

Clara Fisher, afterwards Mrs. Maeder, was 
a niece of Mrs. Vernon. She appeared at the 
Park as a " Youthful Prodigy," and inherited 
in a remarkable degree the talent of her noted 
family. She selected for her debut the char- 
acter of " Little Pickle " in the farce entitled 
The Spoiled Child. She was precocious, 
became a marked favorite, was applauded, 
petted, praised without limit, and soon became 
a spoiled child in reality, so far as any marked 
improvement could be discerned. Her early 
smartness did not keep pace with her years, 
and as is often the case, the wonderful infant 
did not culminate in an extraordinary woman. 
She glided almost imperceptibly from the 
stage, but was long known as a cultivated 
musician and highly esteemed as a teacher. 

Harry Placide, but lately deceased, at a ripe 
old age, was beyond a doubt the most brilliant 
general actor of his day. He was always ac- 
ceptable to his audience, besides being a man 
in whom the manager could place perfect con- 
fidence. His rare talent was not limited by 
any specialty ; it ranged from grave to gay, 
from "Grandfather Whitehead" to the fat 
schoolboy, whose delights lay in trundling 
hoops and eating gingerbread. 



Knickerbocker Life. 259 

During his long continuous career on the 
boards of one theatre he was not surpassed in 
his conception and depiction of the refined, 
courtly gentleman, either of the old or new 
school : they were studies one never tired in 
witnessing. For such portraitures his physique 
was singularly adapted. His person was very 
attractive ; his features refined when in repose, 
yet unusually expressive ; his manners easy 
and graceful ; his voice soft yet manly in its 
modulation and tone. 

Perfectly au fait by early education and 
study in all the details which distinguish a pol- 
ished man of the world, he walked the stage 
and entered into his assumed character without 
any of those conventional stagey mannerisms 
which often mar the performances of men who 
claim to be stars of the first theatrical degree. 
Many of these stars never lose sight of them- 
selves ; their self-importance is absolutely ap- 
palling, it perceptibly looms through every 
garb, through every character they assume ; and 
the careful observer will see the well-known 
form and figure of the famous tragedian Smith 
undimmed alike by gloomy " Hamlet," crafty 
" Richelieu," ambitious " Richard," trusting 
"Othello," conniving " lago," or "Sir Giles 



26o Last Days of 

Overreach," or " Sir Edward Mortimer," — in 
fine, the whole repertoire through which Mr. 
Smith " struts his brief hour upon the stage." 
If Placide was a victim of this inordinate van- 
ity, he possessed the happy faculty of showing 
it only at rare intervals, when he played the 
part of Henry Placide in private circles. " Sir 
Peter Teazle," " Sir Harcourt Courtley," 
" Baron Pompolino," and " Grandfather White- 
head " were in his hands gems of acting worth 
miles of travel to witness. In low comedy and 
farce he brought to bear all the humor needful 
to a decided hit, but never forgot himself or 
his audience by being unmindful of " Hamlet's " 
advice to the players. 

Tyrone Power, the acknowledged Irishman 
of the stage, who unfortunately has had no 
successor as yet worthy to wear the mantle 
of his fame, was a generous, appreciative man, 
and possessed a keen sense of the ridiculous. 
During his several engagements at the Park 
he was supported in many of his characters by 
Placide, one of which is especially remembered. 
In this play Placide was assigned the part of 
a phlegmatic Dutchman, between whom and 
the rollicking Irishman a most unaccountable 
intimacy springs up, and the odd twain are 




HENRY PLACIDE. 



Knickerbocker Life. 261 

supposed to be travelling in company through 
Ireland. In many scenes of this play Power 
seemed to forget himself and joined the audi- 
ence in their applause and laughter, as Placide 
growled and grumbled at the misery and dis- 
comfort which met him at every turn during 
his sojourn in the Emerald Isle. One scene 
in particular is recalled when the agonized 
Dutchman, with horror-stricken tones exclaims, 
" Mein Gott, vat a kountree, vat a beebles." 
The attitude, the look of despair, the guttural, 
mournful tone of Placide, were so supremely 
ridiculous that the great Power lost all self- 
control, and for a time was convulsed with un- 
affected, genuine laughter. No comedian ever 
received a higher meed of praise. 

It is the general belief that actors as a rule 
are the most selfish of mortals ; that they are 
the most censorious critics of each other ; that 
jealousy forms a preponderant ingredient of 
stage life. An incident at the Park may 
prove interesting as an illustration that great 
actors can be generous and at times impulsive 
in the praise of a rival. The first appearance 
of Charles Kean at the Park theatre, on the 
boards where his father in former years had 
electrified New York audiences, was antici- 



262 Last Days of 

pated as an uncommon theatrical event. For 
days preceding his opening, expectation was 
rife, great things were hoped for from the son 
of the renowned Edmund ; so the house was 
filled with the refined and educated patrons of 
the drama. 

Young Kean had chosen " Richard," a char- 
acter in which his renowned sire shone the 
brightest, both in England and America. In 
the rendering and acting of this thrilling role 
the elder Kean had powerful competitors, so 
powerful that the partisan spirit engendered 
almost culminated in a riot at the rival houses 
of Drury Lane and Covent Garden. Fore- 
most among the ambitious disputants to become 
the acknowledged " Roscius," was Junius Bru- 
tus Booth, whose ardent admirers claimed for 
him the much coveted crown ; but especially did 
they boldly assert that he stood alone and un- 
approached in his delineation of the " Duke of 
Gloucester." Certain it was that in this country 
through long years Booth was the standard 
''Richard" of the American stage; by his 
standard all aspirants have been criticized, and 
equally certain it is that no one of the many 
who have appeared could invest the villainous 
character with that fearful reality and painful 



K?iickerbocker Life, 263 

interest which characterized his personation of 
the role. His physique, his nervous tempera- 
ment, his restless eye, his reckless manner, his 
consummate by-play, his devilish sneer, found 
full scope in the different scenes presented by 
the play, and he seemed fitted as it were by 
nature to portray to the life Shakespeare's 
ideal monster. 

Junius Brutus Booth was among the as- 
semblage congregated to welcome and to 
pass judgment upon the young Kean on his 
first appearance at the Park. He was doubt- 
less a close observer, as the son of his great 
rival passed through an ordeal which was to 
make or mar his fortunes in the New World. 
Charles Kean was a wonderful actor ; more 
than wonderful when his glaring physical 
defects are considered ; more wonderful still 
for the tact he displayed not only in conceal- 
ing them, but at times in converting them into 
actual beauties. His figure was short and dis- 
proportioned, yet his action on the stage was 
smooth, always commanding, and at times 
graceful. His voice was harsh and singularly 
uneven, his occasional hesitancy of speech 
almost amounted to a decided stammer ; still, 
by the aid of his powerful will he so mesmer- 



264 Last Days of 

ized his auditors that the broken articulation 
ceased to grate upon the ear ; and his heredi- 
tary genius, by which he was enabled to over- 
come barriers apparently insurmountable to a 
man without his prestige, softened if it did 
not completely silence adverse criticism. His 
strict attention to detail, his perfect make-up, 
his energetic dash, covered a multitude of 
faults, and he was greeted with encouraging 
applause as scene after scene was acted, point 
after point satisfactorily made, until the clos- 
ing act was reached, in which his father and 
Booth had so often strained every power they 
possessed to gain the mastery. 

Thus far young Kean had made a most 
favorable impression, but the " tent scene " and 
" Richard's" desperate encounter with " Rich- 
mond," have always been considered as "test 
points " upon which to base the merit of the 
actor, and he had wisely husbanded his energy 
and strength to compass the trying ordeal. 
He entered upon the arduous task with all 
the needful fire ; the audience warmed to his 
impulsive ardor, and he had scarcely com- 
pleted the exclamation ''Richard is himself 
again!'" when from the box adjoining the 
stage rang out in a clear, distinct tone, " Good 



Knickerbocker Life. 265 

boy, Charlie, worthy of your father." The 
outspoken enthusiast was at once recognized, 
and the noble criticism awarded by Junius 
Brutus Booth was acknowledged by such 
cheers as are only vouchsafed to master spirits. 
Kean's grateful, heartfelt bow, as his quick 
eye caught a glimpse of the well-known form of 
the acknowledged " Richard " of the stage will 
never be forgotten by those who were present, 
neither will Booth's hurried, embarrassed exit 
when he found that he had unwittingly become 
the cynosure alike of audience and of stage. 




CHAPTER X. 

Peter Richings — His singular versatility as an actor — 
John Fisher and John Povey in low comedy — Will- 
iam Wheatley — Charles K. and John Mason arrive 
with Charles Kemble and Fanny Kemble— Saturday 
night at the Park devoted to experimental acting — 
An embryo " Romeo's " experience — The stage and 
scenery of the Park contrasted with more modern 
appointments — Old New Yorkers who patronized 
the Park — Edwin Booth at his new theatre — The 
" Hamlet " of Charles Kean and Edwin Booth con- 
trasted — How the stage moon at the Old Park was 
eclipsed — Thomas S. Hamblin — The Bowery Theatre 
— The arena of Edwin Forrest's first triumphs — John 
R. Scott — The pit of the Bowery Theatre and its 
masters — Josephine Clifton, the tragedy queen — Mrs. 
Shaw, the excellent actress — The combat between 
" Richard " and " Richmond." 



PETER Richings is undoubtedly entitled 
to the next position on the roll of honor 
among the stock company of the Park. This 
is surely his due, if respectable utility is to be 

266 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 267 

the decisive test. Peter was a noted and 
notable man on the street as well as upon the 
stage ; for he was over six feet in stature, 
straight and slim as an arrow ; prim and 
straight in all the appointments of dress, and 
on the promenade accompanied by his short, 
plump, good-natured little wife, he was the 
personification of a contented Presbyterian 
divine who considers himself in good standing 
with the world and his special flock. Rich- 
ings was invariably well up in the varied parts 
of his somewhat incongruous duties on the 
boards, for they ranged from the mournful 
tragic assignment, all through the tortuous 
windings of the drama clear down to the 
funny man in farce ; and, farther still, he often 
joined in the chorus of sweet sounds when 
opera chanced to be the attraction ; which 
fact may possibly account for the charming 
manner in which his daughter Caroline now 
entertains her delighted audiences. 

He may also in an emergency have appeared 
in ballet to sustain Madame Augusta in the 
Bayadere ; if he did, it must be deemed 
conclusive that his long spindle-shanks did 
their whole duty, that the effort was a pro- 
nounced success, for Richings was never known 



268 Last Days of 

to undertake any role and fail to create some- 
thing akin to a sensation. His " Dazzle," 
" Mark Meddle," and " Modus," were especial- 
ly characterized by careful study, and were 
universally admitted to be performances of 
unusual merit, alike by the public and the 
press. He was never moody or uncertain, 
but always appeared as one of the promi- 
nent figures of a happy family, bent on doing 
his utmost to promote the general weal. Rich- 
ings was a prime favorite, not on account of 
sterling professional ability, but founded upon 
a far more enduring basis, his undeviating ex- 
cellence and probity in every position of life, 
whether as an actor on the stage or as a man 
in the domestic circle. 

John Fisher and his co-partner John Povey 
divided for years the honors of low comedy. 
Their joint roles included all the grave-diggers, 
the gawky cousins, the Yorkshire clowns, the 
impertinent serving-men ; in fact, everything 
in the pert, saucy, or idiotic line fell to the lot 
of these comic twins. John Fisher, the brother 
of Mrs. Vernon, was, like that lady, of a spare 
and active mould, quick-witted, rare at repartee, 
possessed of a marvellous facial expression ; 
but, like the rest of his family, he was apt to 



Knickerbocker Life. 269 

chuckle perceptibly at his own comic powers. 
He laughed himself at his own oddities and 
made everyone else do the same, except his 
confrtre Povey. This John Povey was a ro- 
tund little cockney, who looked oily from sheer 
good nature, but his full-moon face never be- 
trayed the slightest emotion ; yet his impertur- 
bable gravity was irresistibly funny, and his 
-vacant, idiotic stare must have nearly equalled 
Liston's fit of grief, said to have convulsed his 
audience, for the smiles of mirth radiated 
through his tears ; or Burton's pompous indig- 
nation, which was painfully ludicrous. The 
man, woman, or child who could abstain from 
a hearty laugh when Fisher, Mrs. Vernon, and 
Povey were on the stage was indeed a hopeless 
case, for no skilled medicine-man could avail 
with such a confirmed, chronic misanthrope. 
Whether Povey is still alive and battling man- 
fully with rheumatic gout, like his old friend 
Tom Bleakley, immured in some secluded cot- 
tage on the outskirts of civilization, condemned 
on dry toast and tea to do penance for the in- 
numerable woodcock he devoured in his prime 
at Windust's, where ample time is given him 
by his former admirers for reflection and retro- 
spection, is not known to the writer ; but John 



2/0 Last Days of 

Fisher died in 1847, ^f^er a brief illness, leav- 
ing Mrs. Vernon to be the last of the mirth- 
provoking trio. 

William Wheatley was the hotspur, young 
villain, lover, dandy of the company. Quick, 
brilliant, ambitious for success in his profes- 
sion, he pressed forward with determination, 
and at an early age became a prominent per- 
sonage among a group unsurpassed for talent. 
His well-knit, supple figure, classic features, 
and manly bearing made him a special favorite 
with the ladies of the day, and the effect of 
their ill-concealed admiration was soon appar- 
ent in the ''petit 7naitre'' style, so noticeable 
in his subsequent walk and demeanor on the 
stage. But despite his vanity he rose to be 
recognized as a melodramatic actor of far more 
than ordinary merit, and ably sustained his 
sister, Mrs. Mason, during her short but brill- 
iant theatrical career. On her retirement he 
withdrew from the Park, where he had been 
thoroughly and methodically schooled in stage 
business, and became the lessee and manager 
of a Philadelphia theatre, appearing only at 
intervals in this city, and but a short time since 
closed his public duties as the manager of 
Niblo's Garden, from which, rumor says, he 
retired with an ample competence. 



Knickerbocker Life. 271 

The Masons, Charles K. and John, came to 
this country with Charles Kemble and his 
talented daughter Fanny. As these gentlemen 
were nearly allied to that renowned family, 
they at once attracted public attention, and 
shone for a time from reflected splendor. 
While father and daughter remained on the 
boards, the Masons were attached to their suite 
and enacted the lover roles when the niece of 
Mrs. Siddons strode the stage ; for it was 
generally understood that the lady would not 
permit a stranger to breathe "soft nothings" 
in her ear, even in the presence of a packed 
audience, on a brilliantly lighted stage, and 
the peerless Fanny had for the moment merged 
her individuality into that of the impulsive 
" Julia," and made ordinary mortals quake when 
as " Lady Macbeth " in dramatic frenzy she 
exclaimed, " Do it, nor leave the act to me." 
After the retirement of the Kembles, John 
Mason remained for a time a member of the 
stock company of the Park ; but the lucky 
actor soon won the heart of a wealthy 
damsel of Gotham, and the twain made 
"assurance doubly sure" by a precipitate 
elopement, which created an unusual stir in 
methodical circles. When the parental and 
Knickerbocker storm had spent itself, John 



2/2 Last Days of 

bade a final adieu to the stage, assiduously 
studied medicine, and Dr. John with Mrs. 
Mason soon earned professional and social dis- 
tinction in the city of brotherly love, which has 
been for years their happy home. 

Saturday night — the reverse of the present 
order of things — was the dull theatrical night 
of the week, for many occasional patrons of 
the drama still held to the old style idea, that 
all worldly matters should be cast aside at sun- 
set of that day, and the preparations for the 
Sabbath formally inaugurated. Parties were 
inadmissible, visiting of doubtful propriety, 
except in cases of imperative necessity, or when 
the most intimate relations existed. Stars in 
their engagements invariably excepted Satur- 
day nights, for these luminaries like the rest 
of the world had a " single eye " to the al- 
mighty dollar and had no idea of wasting their 
talent and time upon the unattractive walls 
and hard benches of the Old Park. Such being 
the fact, it was stock night, but occasionally 
devoted to '' the first appearance on any stage " 
of some enthusiastic worshipper of the sock 
and buskin school. As their debuts were as a 
rule not paying enterprises, the managers ex- 
acted expenses in advance from the aspirant 



Knickerbocker Life. 273 

for fame, so par consequence the audience of 
the occasion was, in classic language, " dead- 
head." 

Debut Saturday night brings vividly to mind 
the first appearance of a stage-struck youth, 
who had seen and studied Kemble's " Romeo " ; 
had rehearsed it over and over in his leisure 
moments before his shaving-glass, with his cot 
bedstead, washstand, chair, and portmanteau as 
audience. Being his own critic, the decision 
was of course favorable, so he had resolved to 
relinquish his unromantic humdrum drudgery, 
become the petted hero of the horn, and woo 
his "Juliet" with a pathos, in comparison with 
which Kemble's most tender tones would pale 
and be forgotten. The coming "Romeo " hired 
the Park for a Saturday night ; his name was 
duly posted in capitals on the bills, but when 
the eventful time arrived, few besides the dead- 
heads could be induced to enter the classic 
portals and become particeps criminis in the 
murder of the lovesick but inoffensive " Ro- 
meo." The pit, however, was comfortably 
filled, for the boys were always on the qni vive 
for items, which were not near so plentiful 
then as now ; and besides, the new star was not 
unknown, but chanced to be the successful and 



2 74 Last Days of 

popular proprietor of the few ten-pin alleys 
then required for the healthful well being and 
recreation of the young Knicks. 

Our " Romeo " appeared duly togged out in 
full regalia, blooming as a June rose, with his 
courage screwed to the needful point, and 
gained fresh confidence by the boisterous re- 
ception he met at the hands of friends in return 
for the free treat he was about to afford. The 
old actors and actresses who were to sustain the 
novice " had been there before " many a time, 
and well understood how to bolster up any 
faintness he might show — to aid the all-impor- 
tant prompter who was scarcely concealed be- 
hind the wing, and had a most arduous duty 
to perform. All went well at the outset ; little 
hitches here and there were dexterously regu- 
lated ; no crash, no positive breakdown ; and 
throughout the opening scenes the ambitious 
swain was sustained by visions of coming great- 
ness, little dreaming that the dread end was so 
close at hand ; that the " balcony act " which 
he had rehearsed so often, and with so much 
confident satisfaction, in the seclusion of his 
quiet attic, was to prove his downfall and pos- 
itively his last appearance on any stage. 

In this balcony act, while awaiting the ap- 



Knickerbocker Life. 275 

pearance of his "Juliet," our hero all at once 
seemed to realize that he was alone, — that a 
deathlike stillness pervaded the house ; he cast 
wistful glances towards the supposed window, 
but his love was not there. In an instant all 
seemed chaos to the befuddled, bewildered man, 
— he forgot his part, was too deaf to every- 
thing to heed the almost bursting prompter. 
Even the audible ahems of the convulsed " Ju- 
liet " were unavailing to restore consciousness, 
— he reeled and staggered like a drunken man, 
and ere assistance reached him his legfs failed 
to perform further duty, so our " Romeo " fell 
speechless and senseless upon the stage, amid 
boisterous peals of laughter from before and 
behind the footlights. " Set up them pijis / " 
was sarcastically hurled by the critics in the 
pit, but all to no purpose. Fear had done its 
work, the green baize curtain fell — a shooting 
star had disappeared from the theatrical hori- 
zon — but the item-man had secured a point 
even on a Saturday night. 

Other actors and actresses might be named 
and commented on, but those already referred 
to may be deemed sufficient to serve as an out- 
line of the theatrical men and women who 
amused and instructed us in former times at 



276 Last Days of 

our Old Drury. The stage upon which they 
played, its scenery and appointments by which 
their efforts to please were seconded, it would 
be unjust to their histrionic memories to leave 
unnoticed ; for it must recur to any of the 
former habitues, who still possess the vitality 
and desire to visit the modern theatres, that 
the accessories they enjoyed were mean and 
pitiful when compared even with third-class 
establishments of to-day, and in addition that 
the remembered interest they created would 
have been enhanced ten-fold had they been 
surrounded by a tithe of the gorgeous trap- 
pings and intricate machinery now deemed 
indispensable to success. 

The stage of the Park was as spacious as 
was desirable for the production of any play, 
its dimensions having been forty by seventy 
feet ; and Edmund Simpson was by no means 
a niggardly manager, for he was ever ready 
to avail himself of the best artistic and mechan- 
ical talent the market offered ; but unfortu- 
nately for the company on the stage and the 
audience in front, genius in that line was a 
rare commodity. The public, however, were 
fortunately not exacting, but satisfied that the 
good man used his best endeavors to please ; 



Knickerbocker Life. 277 

besides, in their case, for the most part, igno- 
rance wasbHss, and so perforce they were con- 
tented. 

Still, as the scenery and appointments are, 
after the lapse of years, recalled, and in mem- 
ory contrasted with the vtise-en-scme of to-day, 
the whole affair seems so naked, so ridiculous, 
one can scarcely realize that it was tolerated for 
a moment, much less nightly applauded by the 
most cultivated people the New World could 
boast of. To show that they were cultivated 
and refined it is only needful to mention such 
names as Drake, Halleck, Bryant, Hoffman, 
Fay, Morris, Willis, Noah, Benjamin, Dwight, 
and others whose literary labors have a world- 
wide repute, and who, as members of the press 
were rarely absent from their accustomed 
places in the temple of the drama. 

Besides these well-known writers and poets, 
our merchant princes, accompanied by their 
families were habitual attendants, and the 
night was inclement when representatives of 
the Astor, Beekman, Hone, Coster, Douglas, 
Cruger, Livingston, Schermerhorn, Van Rens- 
selaer families were not to be seen in the 
boxes ; for such names definitely settle the 
quality of the auditors, who were not only sat- 



278 Last Days of 

isfied with, but heartily enjoyed the primitive 
performance, so far as stage effect was con- 
cerned. 

The majority of our readers have, without 
doubt, visited Booth's beautiful theatre, and 
have witnessed with dehofht the maornificent 
artistic mountings of Hamlet at that classic 
establishment. Hamlet was a favorite trag- 
edy then as it is at the present time ; the 
critics and the public were divided then as 
now, with reference to the mental status of 
the much injured Prince of Denmark. Some 
actors danced about and twirled their hand- 
kerchiefs when they supposed themselves un- 
observed by the spies of the " Queen Mother" 
and her husband, as an evidence of joy that they 
had succeeded in deceiving their enemies ; and 
beyond doubt convinced them that " Hamlet" 
was indeed what he pretended to be, stark 
mad ; while others, who conceived themselves 
equally great, maintained a stoical sullenness 
of tone and manner throughout the five acts, 
which became painful from its long-drawn in- 
tensity. Charles Kean was a disciple of the 
first class, basing his construction of the char- 
acter upon the first line, " I am but mad north, 
northwest ; when the wind is southerly I know 



Knickerbocker Life. 279 

a hawk from a handsaw," and there are some 
still alive who consider that his rendering of 
the much-disputed role loses nothing by com- 
parison with greatly-admired modern deline- 
ators. 

Kean's "Hamlet" at the Park, over forty 
years ago, and Edwin Booth's impersonation of 
the same character at the present time, it is not 
proposed to discuss. The former was at the 
time pronounced unsurpassed on the stage, 
while the latter is the acknowledged Dane of 
to-day ; but it is proposed to notice the marked 
contrast in the stage surroundings of each ; the 
primitive barn-like scenery and aids upon which 
the former was compelled to rely in his efforts 
for effect ; and the costly elaborate appliances 
which must so efficiently tend to inspire and 
assist the latter in all the points upon which an 
actor relies. 

Edwin Booth enacts the role in a princely 
palace, gorgeously furnished ; he walks a stage 
on which the elaborate, fitting scenery is noise- 
lessly moved in a flash ; where light and shade 
are so scientifically controlled and arranged, as 
nearly to approach the perfection of nature ; 
nothing to mar the desired illusion, no mishap 
to distract either actor or spectator from the 



28o Last Days of 

points so vital to success in the former and in. 
terest in the latter. One scene at the Old 
Park will suffice to demonstrate what Charles 
Kean was compelled to forego, so far as the 
actor's imagination has to do with the poet's 
imagery, in the supposed moonlight interview 
between " Hamlet" and the spirit of his mur- 
dered parent. The scenic artist of the Park 
was a man of strong, natural common sense, 
who, judged by his work, despised the trifling 
shifts of humbug ; his talent developed nothing 
except palpable, self-evident facts. By per- 
sonal observation he had ascertained that a 
full moon was round ; he had seen one him- 
self, and the honest man determined that the 
audience should have ocular demonstration of 
the fact without risking their health by ex- 
posure to the chilling damps. 

His full moon was constructed on the most 
simple and economical principles. Aided by 
his corps of assistants, a large circular hole was 
cut in the centre of a drop lowered at the rear 
of the stage, the exact altitude of which was 
determined by the dimensions of a step-ladder, 
the reach of a call-boy, and the length of a 
tallow candle combined. This round incision 
was covered by a piece of the jhinnest shirt- 



Knickerbocker Life. 281 

ins: muslin, so that when the longr narrow box 
which contained the oil-lamp footlights had 
been lowered out of sight, the blazing dip in 
the hand of the boy perched on the ladder, 
shed through the white muslin the faintest 
possible counterfeit glimpses of the " Queen of 
the Night." The daring youth in search of the 
parental shadow was compelled to grope his 
way in palpable darkness, for the stage was 
black as Erebus, no object discernible in the 
gloom save Isherwood's sickly white patch 
swaying backward and forward as the unsteady 
curtain was moved either by the wind or the 
restless " supe." Eminently proper under such 
circumstances was it, for " Hamlet" to exclaim, 
"■ I '11 go no farther," for it was a dangerous 
experiment to tread the Park stage at the im- 
minent risk of plunging head first through one 
of its many traps leading to depths below. 

Isherwood's lunar rays were no worse, no 
better than the other emanations of his artistic 
intellect ; while the scene-shifting power was 
limited to strong hands and willing feet, for 
the latter were often seen doing most diligent 
duty in some of the magic transformations re- 
quired for the play. With such surroundings 
it will readily be perceived that Kean had few 



282 Last Days of 

extraneous props upon which to lean, but was 
compelled to achieve deserved reputation by 
his individual powers. 

Now and then by chance, a few of the Old 
Park fogies do meet and chat about theatricals 
as they were, and as they are. On the ques- 
tion of mechanical skill and artful, sensational 
display, they with one accord cry, "beaten." 
They concede the dramatic temples of Young 
America to be magnificent, and relate with 
bated breath the new marvels they behold in 
the modern homes of the Muses ; they slyly 
tell of peeps at the enchanting Forty Thieves, 
of the enticements of the Tivclvc Tcmptatio7is, 
or go into ecstasies about the witcheries of 
Opera Bouffe, and chuckle over the lavish ex- 
hibition of charms ; grow practical when the 
Ballet is mentioned, but are vacillating and un- 
satisfactory on the all-absorbing controversy 
of blonde versus brunette — they as one man 
concur in the wish that they were boys again, 
for in their hearts they mourn over the unro- 
mantic times in which their youth was a part ; 
for then all these delightful things were not. 
But when the keynote of " pure legitimate " 
is sounded, they warm up and are anxious to 
compare one by one the old-time favorites with 



Knickerbocker Life. 2'^'^ 

the new lights, stripped of all modern improve- 
ments ; and they boldly assert that in this re- 
spect tinsel and show have usurped the place 
of pure gold on the American stage. 

The Park had its day, but during the last 
few years of its existence it was shorn of much 
of its former prestige. The National Theatre 
was new, its managers young and energetic, all 
its appointments in keeping with the advance 
of the city. Under the management of Thos. 
S. Hamblin the doors of the Park were kept 
open, but the venerable pile was burned to the 
ground in 1847, during an engagement of the 
Montplaisir troup of dancers, when its name 
and fame became the property of the dusty 
past. 

The building now standing and known as the 
Bowery Theatre is the third dramatic temple 
which has been erected on the same ground. 
Its predecessors were destroyed by fire, the 
present structure having been raised in 1836. 
The prominent managers in its glorious days 
were Dinneford, who was succeeded by Thomas 
S. Hamblin. Both were peculiar favorites 
with the singular and clannish patrons of that 
section of the city. 

It was at the Bowery the first scintillations 



284 Last Days of 

of Edwin Forrest's stentorian powers were 
brought prominently into notice. Leggatt, 
the editor of the Evening Post, was the cham- 
pion of this American tragedian, and availed 
himself of every opportunity to laud the per- 
formances of his special pet. Forrest's mar- 
vellous physique was the pride and delight of 
the Bowery boys, who have always been noted 
for their admiration of the intensely sensa- 
tional order. The "blood and thunder" 
school of declamation was to them a joy, and 
young Forrest seemed fitted by nature to fill 
their exalted idea of orandeur. His original 
" Metamora " and " Jack Cade," or his " Spar- 
tacus " was sure to fill the house with an en- 
thusiastic crowd. 

Tom Hamblin, the manager, was also a sure 
card with the East-side patrons. His com- 
manding figure, expansive chest, jet, flowing 
locks, and stagey strut, realized their concep- 
tion of Adonis. He was well posted in all the 
tricks of the trade, and until his voice was 
seriously injured by an asthmatic complaint, 
he could bellow with the best, " tear a passion 
to tatters, to very rags," " split the ears of the 
groundlings," and thus made himself a hero 



K^iicker backer Life. 285 

with men and boys who doted on caricature, 
no matter what shape it assumed, always pro- 
vided there was a strong infusion of the grandil- 
oquent. 

John R. Scott was far from being an insig- 
nificant imitator of Forrest, and undoubtedly 
ranked next on the list of Bowery stars. Like 
his adored pattern his style was that of the 
expansive school, and in classic vernacular, 
" he spread himself." The capacious stage of 
the Bowery was none too large for the com- 
plete exhibition of his melodramatic frenzy, 
when in the closing scene he was surrounded 
by blue flames, and wildly hi-hied by the 
thoroughly roused " B'hoys" who were packed 
in the pit at a shilling a head. 

This Bowery pit was doubtless the study 
from which emanated the current theological 
Idea that the theatre was the visible " counter- 
feit presentment " of that mythological terror 
so persistently dwelt on by the good dominies 
to deter the Knickerbocker youth from enter- 
ing its doors. The patrons of this pit were 
little devils of every shape and shade, with a 
large preponderance of the printer's imp, 
backed up by his sworn ally in wickedness, the 



286 Last Days of 

newspaper boy ; who was and still remains a 
zealous supporter of the drama, and has an 
abiding faith in stunning effects on the stage. 
These free, outspoken critics were nightly at 
their posts, and when the doors were opened 
rushed like unchained demons to secure front 
seats. Woe betide the luckless stranger who 
in the furious melee had chanced to light upon 
the chosen spot of some steady attendant, for 
with the cry of " hustle him out," the intruder 
was passed to the rear as if he were nothing 
but an inanimate mass, from bench to bench, 
by the hatless, coatless, barefooted crew, with 
a practiced dexterity which bafHes description. 
This unwashed, uncombed assemblage were 
unmistakable believers in the doctrines set 
forth by the great English traveller, so far as 
the conduct of the occupants of the first tier 
was concerned ; for even the careless turning 
of the back upon their domain was quickly 
detected, and as quickly righted by the well- 
understood shout of Trollope ; and when the 
imperative order had been complied with, the 
impolite offender was comforted by a rousing 
cheer. At the tinkle of the bell, "down in 
front," " hats off," announced from the pit that 
the thrilling scenes were to be enacted, and 



Knickerbocker Life. 287 

for a time the pandemonium was silent as the 
grave. 

Josephine Clifton was for a time the ruling 
theatrical goddess of the Bowery. She seemed, 
as it were, expressly created to meet the ex- 
travagant ideas of her worshippers, so far as 
dimensions went. Though of gigantic pro- 
portions for a woman, her form was symmetri- 
cal, her features attractive, and her voice not 
lacking in sweetness of tone. " Macbeth," 
even personated by the stalwart Forrest, or the 
long-striding Hamblin, looked insignificant 
and puny when the magnificent towering " Jo " 
Clifton walked the stage as their " better-half," 
while the other actors and actresses dwindled 
into mere pigmies by her side. This theatri- 
cal giantress was, however, short-lived, and 
her sister, Miss Missouri, who was almost her 
counterpart in physical development and per- 
sonal charms, ended her brief career on the 
stage, as was currently reported at the time, 
by poison. 

But by far the best actress whom the Bowery 
could boast of in the olden times was Mrs. 
Shaw, afterwards the wife of Manager Ham- 
blin. For years this lady sustained the lead- 
ing female roles with marked ability, and some 



288 Last Days of 

of her impersonations would compare favorably 
with the best then known on the English or 
American staafe. Mrs. Shaw was an admirable 
reader ; but little inclined to rant, and appar- 
ently gave no heed to the clap-trap nonsense 
so generally in vogue with those whose lot was 
cast to please critics with a taste so decided as 
that which swayed the verdicts of the Bowery 
pit. The purely sensational even constrained 
the great Booth, when in his latter days he 
now and then gratified the boys with his far- 
famed "Richard," and the old stager knew full 
well that it was needful to husband his strength 
for the closing act. He knew that a short, 
decisive conflict with " Richmond" would not 
do; that nothing but a long-drawn, "rough 
and tumble," exhausting fight would come up 
to the standard. Flynn and other aspiring 
" Richmonds " were on more than one occasion 
the victims of Booth's energetic display ; for 
the cheers of the unterrified seemed to rekindle 
the latent fires of the veteran, who dealt blows 
right and left, which were not laid down in the 
rehearsed programme ; and with a will which 
often caused his opponent to dance about with 
a dexterity seldom witnessed on the boards; 
and these " Richmonds " always seemed to 



Knickerbocker Life. 289 

feel a great sense of relief, when the doughty 
crooked-back tyrant relaxed his spasmodic ef- 
forts and permitted himself to be dispatched, 
as laid down in Shakespeare's version of the 
tragedy. 




CHAPTER XI. 



The Franklin Theatre — " Wake me up when Kirby dies " 
— National Theatre, Church and Leonard Streets — 
Chanfrau as " Mose " — James W. Wallack-^Browne — 
Blake — Nickerson — Popular operatic airs— The Van- 
denhoff family— The Olympic— Mitchell, the actor- 
manager — Burlesque — Mitchell as Fanny Ellsler — 
Mary Taylor — " Our Mary " demands increase of 
salary — Mitchell refuses, but the pit demands Miss 
Taylor's reinstatement — Mitchell yields — Niblo's Gar- 
den — Mrs. Niblo the business manager — The Garden 
becomes a Theatre — The Lafayette and Richmond 
Hill Theatres — Charles W. Sandford's brief career as 
a manager — The Broadway Tabernacle, a shrine of 
fanaticism — Jenny Lind. 

THE Franklin Theatre, situated on Chatham 
Square, was a cheap, small concern and 
a weak competitor of the Bowery. Its rivalry 
amounted to little, notwithstanding the fact 
that Booth was occasionally entrapped in his 
eccentric wanderings and induced to appear 
for one or two niorhts. There were, however, 

290 



Last Days of Knickei'bocker Life. 291 

two sensations at this house which attracted 
notice and brought many dollars into the treas- 
ury. The hero of the first was a stage-struck 
genius named Kirby, who drew crowds to wit- 
ness his death-throes in the closing scene of 
Richard. In intensity and protracted horror 
they surpassed anything ever attempted up to 
that period, for by comparison Booth's highest 
pressure under the direct influence of both out- 
ward and inward spirit was tame and insipid. 
Kirby, in imitation of Junius Brutus, kept his 
vitality well in hand for the final " wind-up " ; 
and his audience, as if in sympathy, listlessly 
reclined until the moment came when the hith- 
erto harmless and apparently peaceful man was 
to commence his " ground and lofty tumbling " 
as if he had just been stung by a thousand 
wasps. " Wake me up when Kirby dies," was 
a cant saying of the time, but the man or boy 
who could sleep during Kirby's agonizing 
bowlings, could calmly repose in the embrace 
of a yelping maniac. 

The other feature which recurs in connection 
with this theatre was the production of the local 
drama in which " Mose," " Sikesy," and " Lize " 
are introduced as types of the peculiar class 
then known as Bowery B'hoys, or Fire-laddies. 



292 Last Days of 

The allusions and situations, combined with 
the peculiar phraseology of the leading charac- 
ters, invested the piece with unusual interest, 
and insured it a temporary popularity. Male 
citizens of every grade, after investing in a 
pint of freshly-roasted peanuts, betook them- 
selves to witness Chanfrau's admirable person- 
ation of the reckless, devil-may-care, yet chiv- 
alric " Mose," whose oddities have been already 
noticed in a preceding chapter, where the 
reader has met him in p7'op7'ia pe^^sojia, and can 
perhaps comprehend the difficulties which be- 
set even that talented actor, in his endeavors 
to faithfully portray a character which has now 
become obsolete and a legend of the past. 

The opening of the National Theatre, on 
the northwest corner of Church and Leonard 
Streets, marked a new era in our theatricals. 
The auditorium was constructed with some re- 
gard to comfort, and by comparison with the 
old places of amusement in Gotham it ap- 
peared grand and luxurious. It was originally 
designed to be the home of Italian Opera in 
the new world, but after a short season of 
financial disaster, the unacclimated singing 
birds became disgusted with the chilling asso- 
ciations of the temperate zone, and took wing 



Knickerbocker Life. 293 

for more sunny climes. Our venerable friend, 
John Falstaff Hackett, took possession of the 
abandoned nest ere it became cold, and dedi- 
cated it to dramatic entertainments of the 
Anglo-Saxon type. For a time, under the 
management of this well-known ** Sergeant of 
the Old Guard," it thrived apace ; but its re- 
nown was assured when James W. Wallack 
came to the rescue and assumed entire control. 
His enterprise, tact, and histrionic ability were 
untiringly devoted to its success, and it was at 
the National that he laid the foundation for his 
long and brilliant career as a metropolitan 
manager of rare accomplishments. 

The stock company was culled with great 
discrimination from the theatrical ranks at 
home as well as from abroad ; and the comedy 
staff was most admirably chosen, for such 
names recur as Mitchell, " Billy Villiams of the 
Veils," Browne, Blake, Nickerson, who were 
in themselves a host, never to be forgotten 
while the memory of a hearty laugh remains 
to warm up the stagnant blood. Browne's 
" Robert Macaire," and the "Jacques Strop " of 
Williams, were gems of comic acting that the 
intervention of long years cannot dim — they 
can scarcely blur the much-enjoyed treat. 



294 Last Days of 

During Wallack's management he made a 
most marked hit by the introduction of Eng- 
lish Opera. The troupe was a choice one, and 
it had a long and successful engagement. The 
favorite singers were Mesdames Sheriff, Seguin, 
and Poole, who were most ably supported by 
Messrs. Wilson and Seguin. Balfe's Amilie 
was brought out, and it miraculously fitted the 
Yankee idea of music, which was, and is, no 
matter what may be asserted to the contrary, 
ringing, cheerful, simple melody ; for " Morn- 
ing's Ruddy Beams Tinged the Eastern Sky " 
and "My Boyhood's Home" were for the 
time warbled in the parlors and carolled on 
the streets of Gotham. Wallack did not then, 
as was his custom of late years, rely entirely 
upon the attractions of his unsurpassed stock 
company. The stars of the period were fre- 
quently engaged, and among them were the 
Vandenhoffs, father, son, and daughter. The 
elder Vandenhoff was a most finished elocu- 
tionist ; his readings in Cato were superb, 
while his personation of Cardinal Richelieu, 
penned expressly to display the peculiar pow- 
ers of the much-eulogized Macready, has not 
been surpassed by a single one of the many 
who have attempted its delineation on the 



Knickerbocker Life. 295 

American stage. The daughter was a pol- 
ished, finished actress, and her " Pauline" a 
test character of the day, ranked with the best ; 
while the son, who has made his home with 
us for many a year, is too well known, far and 
wide, on the stage and in the lecture room, to 
need the tribute even of a passing notice. 

When theatrical planets were not available, 
" Rolla," " Don Caesar," " Evelin," or any one 
of "The Wallack's" artistic roles was sure to 
fill the house ; for from his first entree at the 
Park he was stamped as guinea-gold by public 
opinion, and to the end held his high rank. 
All agreed that he was a most finished actor, 
and possessed the happy faculty of being in- 
variably agreeable to his audience. Though 
he did not entirely sink his Individuality, he 
deserves great credit for his marked endeavor 
to cloak the Wallackian vanity, for which that 
family is so noted, both on and off the stage. 
James W. Wallack, as an actor, displayed so 
much ability that his vanity was most cheer- 
fully pardoned b}^ his enthusiastic admirers. 

On his second visit to this country, Charles 
Kean appeared at the National ; but ere his 
engagement closed, and when the stage was 
set for Richard, the popular theatre was 



296 Last Days of 

burned and never rebuilt. Wallack's subse- 
quent theatrical life belongs to the modern 
era. 

When the National Theatre was destroyed, 
the sons and daughters of Melpomene who 
had domiciled there were scattered hither and 
thither. Mitchell, an unmistakable child of 
Momus, established himself as the manager 
of a tiny box situated on Broadway, between 
Howard and Grand Streets, which he dignified 
with the name of theatre and christened the 
laugh-provoking nook as " The Olympic." 
This seven-by-nine cubby-hole he devoted to 
sensational burlesque, and the manager in 
person was its bright particular star through- 
out its prosperous career. His corps of as- 
sistants was of course very limited in number, 
for the stage was scarcely more spacious than an 
ordinary parlor; but as regarded fitness for the 
business required, it was a rare combination. 
Mitchell, Walcott, Nickerson, Clarke, Mary 
Taylor, and the Misses Nickerson and Clarke 
were the fixed attractions, though others were 
in an emergency temporarily engaged, among 
whom was Stephen Massett, who of late has 
become widely known as the famous " Jeemes 
Pipes, of Pipeville," a wandering philosopher, 



Knickerbocker Life. 297 

who, " When the moon o'er the lake is beam- 
ing," hies away to the uttermost parts of the 
earth to cull fresh stimulants for his restless 
muse. Massett made his debut in the operatic 
line, and ably assisted in the travesties of Fra 
Diavolo and Amelia. Mitchell, however, was 
his own best card ; he was a wonderful mimic. 
Nast, with his pencil, is great ; Mitchell, with 
nothing but his stubby frame, was far greater, 
and no actor or actress of note escaped his 
trenchant, ironical burlesque. 

His caricatures of Booth's " Richard," Kean's 
" Hamlet " and Forrest's " Othello " were mar- 
vels of grotesque imitation, but his crowning 
success was as a " Danseuse," at the time when 
the " divine " Fanny Ellsler was creating sad 
havoc among New Yorkers, old and young ; 
causing her slaves to cut up all sorts of anti- 
Knickerbocker antics, for a most prominent 
one was carried so far by his infatuation that the 
" Poetess of Motion " was whirled up the Bloom- 
ingdale road behind his showy four-in-hand, to 
the unspeakable horror of grandfathers, and 
the ill-concealed envy of the boys who were 
not so fortunate as to represent the capitalists 
of the Main. 

Ellsler had selected for her piece de resis- 



298 Last Days of 

tance at the Park a ballet entitled La Taran- 
tule ; and on each appearance the queen of 
agile grace was literally showered with bou- 
quets, which were hurled at her with the 
wildest enthusiasm. Mitchell, with his quick 
sense of the ludicrous, fully appreciated the 
demented condition of affairs, and his cogita- 
tions culminated in the production of a ballet 
at the Olympic, with himself as the rival of 
the then inimitable posturist and dancer. 

On the first night of The Mosquitoe there 
was scarcely breathing-room in his little theatre 
for an hour before the curtain was to rise, for 
expectation was on tip-toe, and curiosity was 
rife as to the extent to which this new-tried 
imitation would be a success. 

Mitchell's costume and make-up were exact 
copies of the original, but any attempt to de- 
scribe the effect they produced, when fitted upon 
his well-known figure, is utterly vain. Imagine 
a short, thick-set man, with heavy, bandy- 
legs, and red, full-moon, comical face, arrayed 
in short lace petticoats ; his dumpy extremities 
encased in flesh-colored tights, white satin slip- 
pers on his goodly sized feet, streamers of gay 
ribbons fluttering from his broad shoulders, 
his big round head encircled by a wreath of 



Knickerbocker Life. 299 

bright flowers ; standing before you in a posi- 
tion of exaggerated grace, and with a fearful 
assumption of modesty, tremulously bowing to 
a perfect storm of cheers, and some faint con- 
ception may be formed of the nondescript 
apparition advertised to personate the most 
accomplished dancing woman of the age. 

In the item of graceful repose, Ellsler by 
common consent won the day ; but when the 
item of agility comes to be discussed, critics 
were divided, for Mitchell performed wonders 
in the jumping line, that were instigated by 
his arduous efforts to prevent his airy apparel 
from unduly rising and thus possibly shocking 
the more sensitive of his refined audience. 
The closing scene of La TaranhUe as per- 
formed by Ellsler was pronounced the " acme " 
of graceful power, for Fanny's aerial flights 
were stupendous ; they carried Young Amer- 
ica to the very verge of hopeless lunac}'. 
Mitchell's genius was, however, equal to such 
an emergency. He brought rope and hook 
into requisition to aid him in his determined 
resolve not to be outdone by a woman, and 
the burly humorist was through their agency 
hoisted high in air, where he kicked and 
floundered until the spectators were worn out 



300 Last Days of 

with laughter, when he displayed a placard 
which triumphantly informed the public " that 
he could jump higher and stay longer than 
Fanriy ever c 021 Id." 

On being lowered from his giddy height 
Mitchell " pirouetted " for a while, embowered 
in carrots, turnips, parsnips, and onions, and 
when backing out gave vent to his overflowing 
feelings with the simple broken words " Toiisan 
tajik, me art too fool,'' which the arch knave 
had stolen bodily from the idol of the hour. 
Ellsler on more than one occasion witnessed 
the side-splitting contortions of Mitchell, and 
rewarded the incomparable mimic with genuine 
marks of her appreciation. 

Mitchell, with all his smooth sailing, had 
some trouble now and then to manage the 
characters who made the Olympic pit their 
rendezvous. Among them there was a sprink- 
ling of newsboys who, from being mere ped- 
dlers of papers, had through continuous con- 
tact with these mediums of lore, become 
educated and graduated into noisy critics, who 
never hesitated to express their likes and dis- 
likes in the most positive, even boisterous 
manner. With this pit Mary Taylor was a 
deity. " Our Mary " was an all-important per- 



Knickerbockei" Life. 301 

sonage, and whoever ventured to speak slight- 
ingly of their adopted queen was quieted in 
the most summary manner. It so chanced that 
on one occasion " Our Mary " and the worthy 
manager came to a misunderstanding relative 
to some matter behind the scenes — a mere 
matter of increase of salary. Mitchell refused 
to comply; "Our Mary" refused to go on; 
so when the curtain rose, Miss Clarke, a gentle, 
modest girl, appeared in the place that " Our 
Mary " had theretofore filled to the unspeak- 
able satisfaction of her rough admirers. 

The Olympic pitites took in the situation 
at a glance, and with one accord demanded the 
restitution of their pet. They hooted at the 
inoffensive substitute, bellowed "fresh shad" 
in the shrillest possible key, varying only the 
monotony by occasional yells for Mary and 
Mitchell to appear. After a few moments 
*' Old Crummies," calm as a spring morn, 
walked to the footlig^hts amid cheers mingled 
with the shout " Put Mary back ! " " Where is 
our Mary?" When comparative silence was 
obtained, Mitchell's face and manner were a 
study not often seen, as he looked upon the 
riotous crew and slowly uttered : " I attend 
to my own business in my own way. If there 



302 Last Days of 

is any more disturbance in the pit I shall raise 
the price ! " The manager retired with ap- 
plause ; the play of the Savage and the 
Maiden proceeded without further interrup- 
tion ; Mary Taylor was restored ; and she con- 
tinued to delight her enthusiastic knights until 
her marriage, when she bade adieu to the 
stage. 

A play was run for a short period at the 
Olympic which was a source of much merriment 
to the initiated, but was the cause of many em- 
barrassing incidents to those who chanced to 
be novices and ignorant of its intent. While 
the piece was progressing on the stage, several 
of the actors were disofuised, and mingled with 
the audience to enact their roles at the proper 
time. On a certain occasion a well known and 
conspicuous resident of Gotham was seated in 
the boxes, and intent upon the play, which he 
had never seen or heard of. Next him sat a 
person in rustic attire, a well-to-do country- 
man in appearance and manners, whose whole 
attention seemed also to be riveted upon the 
play. Suddenly the hitherto quiet farmer 
sprang to his feet, and in tones of the most 
intense excitement implored his long lost wife 
to quit that stage and return to her abandoned 



Knickerbocker Life. 303 

home, and at the same time appealed to the 
eentleman who sat bewildered beside him, to 
aid him in the recovery of his stolen treasure. 
He was fully aware, from the shouts of " Shame ! 
shame ! put him out ! " that the eyes of the 
audience were fixed upon him, and he keenly 
felt his perplexed and ridiculous position. 

The more he smoothed his irate neighbor, 
whispering that he knew Mitchell well ; that 
he would use every effort to restore the fallen 
angel to her lord, the more boisterous became 
the excited husband, and the louder seemed 
the surrounding uproar. It was not until the 
curtain was lowered, that he discovered the in- 
consolable man had flown. The storm of the 
audience was changed to peals of hearty 
laughter, when the kind, sympathetic gentle- 
man, perceiving at a glance the presence of the 
" little joker," modestly retired, and ever after 
took high ground against practical jokes in 
any form. For genuine fun New York has 
had no successor to the Olympic. Mitchell 
was a preacher indeed, when he took upon 
himself the task of ridiculing the follies and 
extravagances of the times. 

The inception of Niblo's Suburban Pleasure 
Ground, which is now covered by the Metro- 



304 Last Days of 

politan Hotel/ a magnificent theatre and a con- 
cert hall, was an advance step taken by William 
Niblo, who had acquired a down-town reputa- 
tion as a caterer, and in consequence became 
famous among the bon vivants and the critical 
tasters of fruity lachrymce. This new summer 
retreat was remote from the dust and bustle of 
the city proper, quite a little walk from the 
densely populated quarters ; and its simple ar- 
rangements and ornamentation were deemed 
fully up to the mark of the modest ruling taste. 
A plain board fence enclosed most of the 
property on the block bounded by Prince, 
Houston, Broadway and Crosby Street ; and 
on the southeast corner on Broadway was 
built the barroom, saloon, or whatever name 
would now be given to the apartment devoted 
to spirituous refreshment ; it was both spacious 
and airy, and it at once became the chosen 
rendezvous of a set of men well known in the 
city, who spent their money freely at convivial 
meetings. 

These worthy citizens were past middle age, 
and disposed to be very glum and ill-natured 
if their classic seances were disturbed or inter- 

' The Metropolitan Hotel was torn down in 1894, and the site is 
now covered by office buildings. — Ed. 




NIBLO S (iARDF.X, ABOU I' 1831. 
From an old wood-cut print. 



K^iickerbocker Life. 305 

rupted by Young America, either during their 
afternoon entertainment at Cato's or their soiree 
at Niblo's ; so the youngsters were apt to give 
the latter place a wide berth, and left the 
distinguished guardians of Cape Fear, Cape 
Lookout, and other prominent corners of the 
promenade in undisputed possession of the 
field, where under the leadership of the re- 
nowned Cedar Street ship merchants, the 
worthy fathers spun their yarns into the " wee 
sma' hours," washing them down with frequent 
copious libations, in memory of their struggles 
in the battle of life. This set of ancient revel- 
lers gave to Niblo's barroom a widespread 
notoriety, and it soon became a source of con- 
siderable income to its accommodating, genial 
proprietor. 

To the Garden proper there was a separate 
entrance from Broadway for the accommodation 
of those visitors whose tastes inclined them to 
seek umbrageous bowers for the full enjoyment 
of ice-cream, cooling port wine negus, or re- 
freshing lemonade. This department was un- 
der the immediate supervision of Mrs. Niblo, 
who, whatever may be averred to the contrary, 
was the ruling spirit of this enterprise, for she 
secured the ** income " and watched the " out- 



3o6 Last Days of 

go" with such rare business ability that the 
place acquired a name and fame enduring still, 
not blotted out by the march of modern im- 
provement. 

The walks were trimly kept, the beds filled 
with a choice variety of shrubs and flowers ; 
cages with singing birds were suspended here 
and there among the branches ; settees with 
little tables were ranged beneath the trees or 
placed in tasteful vineclad summer houses, and 
in the evening this New York paradise was il- 
luminated by the agency of numberless lanterns 
of parti-colored glass of the glow-worm type, 
whose effulgence possessed the merit of not 
being trying to the complexion, and did away 
with the necessity of lily-white and rouge, so 
essential to effect in the strong glare of blazing 
gaslight. Everything about the Garden evi- 
denced careful supervision : order and neatness 
lent a charm to the inexpensive appointments. 

In the centre of the plot Niblo caused to be 
erected an open saloon, which was devoted to 
such light entertainment as is afforded by 
instrumental and vocal music, vaudeville or 
"piquante" farce, with rollicking John Sefton 
in the cast. As after a brief space it became 
eminently proper for the fair sex, under the 



K7iicker backer Life. 307 

protection of a well assured escort, to visit 
Niblo's Saloon, the proprietor was compelled 
to enlarge his accommodations in the dramatic 
line. By degrees the Saloon grew to the pro- 
portions of a real theatre, and the latter swept 
away garden, walk, shrub, tree, and bower ; and 
though the name of Garden was retained, 
scarcely a vestige of a green plant was left as 
a witness of the original plan. Even Mrs. 
Niblo removed her headquarters, and nightly 
supervised the unromantic details of the ticket 
office, that she might, with more certainty, 
gather the increasing influx of dollars, and by 
her presence dam the many infinitesimal outlets 
through which shillings and sixpences are said 
to unaccountably flow and be forever lost to 
the trusting manager. 

The great Ravel family of gymnasts, dancers, 
and contortionists, was the first ofrand card 
Niblo secured, with the lithe, graceful Gabriel 
as leader in their marvellous feats of panto- 
mime, and for many consecutive seasons 
crowded houses greeted their nightly re-entree. 
As time rolled on, the beautiful dramatic temple 
on the rear of the old Garden was built, when 
Billy Niblo, abundantly blessed with stacks of 
dollars, in modern estimation " Heaven's best 



3o8 Last Days of 

gift to man," retired to enjoy the fruits of his 
long services to a generous and appreciative 
pubHc. 

The Lafayette and Richmond Hill Theatres 
were incipient abortions, and would not be con- 
sidered worthy of remembrance were it not that 
by chance each was associated with the recollec- 
tion of marked men who have figured in the 
city. The first named was located on Laurens 
Street, just north of Canal, which, at the period 
(1828), must have been a most unpromising 
tract ; for the neighborhood was sparsely 
settled, and the few inhabitants little likely to 
be tempted by the allurements of the stage. 
During its brief existence, however, this temple 
of the muses was under the management of no 
less a man than Charles W. Sandford, for years 
one of the legal lights of the New York bar, 
but far more widely known as the Major Gen- 
eral commanding the forces designated as the 
First Division, New York State Militia. The 
presumption is, the young advocate and embryo 
military leader was considerably out of pocket 
by this speculation, for soon after it was opened 
to the public the house was burned, and was 
never rebuilt. 

The Richmond Hill, another short-lived. 



Knickerbocker Life. 309 

feeble attempt to establish a place of amuse- 
ment remote from the travelled highways, was 
on Charlton Street near Varick, then one of the 
most quiet sections of the city, in fact beyond 
its actual limit. Its high-sounding- name was 
derived from the site it occupied, and a portion 
of the altered building had formerly been the 
country residence of Aaron Burr, when that 
schemer was at the full of his political career, 
and who in his pride had so christened the 
slight elevation upon which it rested. From 
the start it proved a wretched undertaking ; 
even the few dead-head " claqueurs " of the time 
objected to travel so far from their accustomed 
rounds ; and, as its associations were not worthy 
of notice by the respectable press, the date is 
not published when its green baize curtain was 
finally lowered. 

One other dingy, mongrel place, where peo- 
ple were wont to congregate, is brought to 
mind by the recollection of " anniversary week" ; 
a week unmistakably designated by the influx 
of a horde of cadaverous-looking outsiders that 
came "cawing" into town from far and from 
near, togged out in shiny black swallow-tails, 
and uniformed with blue cotton umbrellas, white 
cravats, black cotton gloves, and each pilgrim 



3IO Last Days of 

armed with a long, lank carpet-bag, in which 
to transport all its owner could not possibly 
devour during the crusade. These hungry- 
looking worshippers of " isms " gave the hotels 
a wide berth ; they came to gorge not disgorge ; 
they quartered upon the faithful of the city 
without even deigning to go through the for- 
mality of a simple ** by your leave." During the 
six days of their pilgrimage at the shrine of 
Fanaticism, the altar was erected at the Broad- 
way Tabernacle, and the place rang with dis- 
cordant yells at all hours, day and night, when 
the locusts were not employed in satisfying 
their inward cravinors. 

o 

This tabernacle was an unsightly pile which 
for many years disfigured Broadway ; but it was 
a hall of considerable capacity, and its acoustic 
qualities said to be the very best in the city. It 
was originally designed for a free Congrega- 
tional church ; but for some time before its 
demolition either it or its proprietors fell from 
grace and it became common stamping-ground, 
on which all classes and conditions of men and 
women ventilated their religious, fanatical, or 
political reveries. Wendell Phillips, W. Lloyd 
Garrison, Gerrit Smith, Arthur Tappan, Lu- 
cretia Mott, and kindred spirits of the unadul- 



Knickerbocker Life. 3 1 1 

terated abolition stripe, made the old walls ring 
again with their soul-stirring recitals of the 
wrongs to suffering Sambo, in the incipient 
stage of the emancipation crusade. 

Owing, however, to its accessibility, it was 
frequently hired for concerts and musical 
entertainments by artists of great merit. Ole 
Bull and Vieuxtemps enlivened it with the 
Carnival of Venice. Braham and DeBeg- 
nies made it ring again with their powerful 
voices ; Charles E. Horn and Austin Phillips 
often carolled there their sweetest notes, and 
even the mighty Barnum for a time entertained 
the idea of introducing his Swedish nightingale 
at the Tabernacle ; but the shrewd calculator 
discovered at the last moment that far off 
Castle Garden, away down by the sounding 
sea, would hold one more on a pinch and thus 
warrant the sale of still another ticket at the 
famous auction. This auction plan was adopt- 
ed by the great and good temperance orator, 
as the only method by which he could satisfy 
the public and at the same time save himself 
from the imputation of favoritism, during the 
furore excited by the appearance of Jenny 
Lind. That auction was a great success ; the 
price paid by the hatter for his ticket, was a 



3 1 2 Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 

marvellous dodge in the advertising line ; it 
was the highest flight of circus imagery. The 
Mermaid, Joyce Heth, the Woolly Horse, Tom 
Thumb, all paled before it. The Duke of 
Iranistan was by it raised to a bewildering 
elevation in the esteem of an appreciative 
constituency. 




CHAPTER XII. 



Equipages few and well known — John Hunter of Hun- 
ter's Island — " Dandy " Marx, the exquisite — Dr. 
Valentine Mott — Mayor Philip Hone — A carriage not 
a necessity — Hackney coaches — Light (?) wagons — 
Commodore Vanderbilt — Harlem an expanse of fields 
— Madison Square surrounded by brick walls — Land 
speculators — Charles Henry Hall and his domain — 
Lovers of the horse — Third Avenue the trotting road 
— Trotters compared — Cato's road house and its fre- 
quenters — Five cigars for one shilling — Dollars and 
population increase in number — Cato's Lane — York- 
ville and Harlem 'buses — " Ion," the road horse — 
Hazard House — Horses trotting — The Red House 
speedway — Flora Temple, queen of the trotting turf — 
Lady Suffolk — Lew Rogers — Dandy Marx and his 
horses. 

THREE or four decades since, society did 
not as a rule keep its carriage, fashion 
did not exact it, neither was the then moderate 
expense necessary to respectability ; so that 
one of the most notable changes which has 

313 



3 1 4 Last Days of 

taken place is in the number and luxurious 
costliness of the vehicles which now meet the 
eye. It is only a few years since, that all the 
private carriages seen on Broadway or the 
Bloomingdale Road were as well known to any 
observant citizen as were the faces and names 
of the owners. The half-dozen negro coach- 
men in livery were marked objects for com- 
ment ; and the solitary footman clad in green 
and gold lace, in the employ of a lady long 
noted for her eccentric display, sat in a dejected 
mood on the " dickey," as if ashamed of his 
toggery and menial vocation. There were 
two four-in-hand teams, one driven by Mr. 
John Hunter, of Hunter's Island, near New 
Rochelle, a gentleman of leisure and large 
wealth ; the other, the property of Henry 
Marx, the noted exquisite of his day, who 
possessed sufficient independence of spirit to 
take one step ahead, to bid defiance to the 
sombre habiliments of the time, and who was 
almost tabooed for his marked departure from 
established custom — the dashing, genial Harry 
Marx, who for many years had the exclusive 
title of " Dandy " prefixed to his name. But 
the spirit and unequalled style of his four 
" high-bred " chestnuts enabled him to bear 



Knickerbocker Life. 3 1 5 

with perfect nonchalance the sneers and jealous- 
ies that beset him on every side ; and while he 
lived and flourished, no man in Gotham enjoyed 
life with a finer zest than Dandy Marx. 

The ponderous Tilbury of a well-known im- 
porter who hailed from the Green Isle, and 
whose descendants are now prominent in soci- 
ety, was a great feature on the drive ; his pow- 
erful seventeen-hand bay, glossy, proud, and as 
quick-stepping as a pony, v/as universally ad- 
mired when driven to the unwieldy two-wheeled 
drag. Many will recall the high-perched seat 
of the dashing, briefless, but wealthy young 
lawyer who lived " away up town," at the Carl- 
ton House, on the corner of Broadway and 
Leonard Street ; the open barouche of the gay 
Cedar Street silk merchant to be seen any fine 
afternoon, except Sunday, occupied by a select 
stag party en route for Burnham's and Cato's ; 
the yellow coach with heavy hammer cloth, in 
waiting for its lady owner who resided on the 
corner of Broadway and Tin-Pot Alley ; the 
low, comfortable carriage, slowly drawn for 
years by a pair of fat, lazy, long-tailed bays, 
trained in the good old days when there was 
little to do and plenty of time in which to per- 
form that little. 



3 1 6 Last Days of 

This latter establishment formed a complete 
combination ; the owner determined upon ease 
after a life of slow but sure usefulness ; the 
staid old driver whose head seemed to nod in 
perfect accord with the measured tread of the 
well-fed quadrupeds ; the low, swinging, roomy 
vehicle, wherein reclined a retired Scotch mer- 
chant, the picture of calm content and good-will 
toward all mankind, a spirit which has de- 
scended to an only son, who still lives to bestow 
liberal yet unostentatious gifts to the friendless 
and stricken, from the abundant estate be- 
queathed to his stewardship. The well-known 
gig of the world-renowned surgeon, whose neat 
Quaker garb, highly-polished white top boots, 
and low-crowned, broad-brimmed, well-brushed 
beaver, was as familiar to all classes as the 
commonest necessity of daily life ; for all, rich 
and poor, young and old, felt respect and love 
for Valentine Mott. The neat equipage of the 
tall, courtly Mayor, Philip Hone, standing in 
front of his residence on Broadway, opposite 
the Park, which in 1835 was swept away with 
others belonging to the i\stors to give place 
to the then grand Astor House. 

A few more private carriages might be speci- 
fied, all as familiarly known to every urchin as 



Knickerbocker Life. 317 

was the most direct route to Stuart's candy 
store, located on the corner of Greenwich and 
Chambers Streets, a pound of whose "broken 
mixed candy " was considered the acme of 
juvenile bliss. 

A carriage was not a necessity. The limits 
of the city proper were so circumscribed that 
ladies could visit and shop without fatigue, and 
the man who ventured to drive to his store, 
counting-room, or office, would have been pro- 
nounced a parvenu, with scarcely a dissenting 
voice. There were Hackney coaches ; rick- 
ety, dilapidated concerns, whose very appear- 
ance indicated that they were employed only 
in cases of dire necessity. Fortunately, if only 
on the score of decency, these creaking vehi- 
cles were not an essential part of a funeral, as 
it was the decorous custom for mourners and 
their friends to walk to the grave in solemn 
procession, headed by the dominie robed in 
full canonicals. 

Horses kept merely for pleasure, owned in 
the city, and driven to light (?) wagons — an 
ethereal Ford or Godwin, celebrated makers, 
would weigh three hundred pounds at least — 
were seldom seen on the lower portion of 
Broadway ; the rough cobble-stone pavement 



3 1 8 Last Days of 

was not beneficial to light springs ; but the 
more important objection lay in the fact that 
when a young man was seen riding during 
business hours, certain prominent citizens 
would place a black mark against his social 
credit, and sundry venerable dames would 
audibly predict that the money which had been 
so carefully accumulated by the departed par- 
ent, would soon be squandered by reckless 
waste. These steady old gentlemen and pre- 
cious old ladies rarely put in an appearance on 
the then famous Third Avenue and Cato Lane, 
and therefore knew nothing of the pranks of 
Young America and his 2.40 trotter as he 
whizzed past Hazard's and the Red House, 
self-satisfied and proud as though he were 
pulling the reins over Dexter or Pocahontas 
on Harlem Lane and dusting the youthful 
Commodore Vanderbilt. 

There are doubtless some readers who can 
recall the time when Harlem, the present 
Twelfth Ward, now being so rapidly covered 
with dwellings and costly mansions, was but an 
expanse of fields, and sold as farming land by 
the acre. What is now Madison Square was 
surrounded by insurmountable brick walls 
which were the terror of the comparatively few 



Knickerbocker Life. 319 

juvenile offenders against the laws of the city. 
At this point cobble-stones stopped and the 
road, or drive in modern parlance, began. 
Land speculators of the day looked upon the 
rural suburb lying beyond as " a far off coun- 
try," too remote even to be available as city 
lots. The financial crash of 1837 darkened 
the hopes of many an aspiring genius ; while 
the old fogy spirit, more rife then than now, 
opposed everything that bore the semblance 
of progress. 

At this period there were but few noticeable 
residences north of the city limits : — here and 
there a country seat on the Hudson or East 
River, the home of some sly Knickerbocker 
who buried a few dollars in a few acres of 
rocky land, whose descendants now roll in 
untold wealth from the timely venture of their 
far-seeing ancestor. 

Conspicuous among these domains was the 
mansion of Charles Henry Hall. His promi- 
nent estate was located at the upper end of the 
easterly side of the island, and its northern 
boundary was washed by the Harlem River, 
then the resort of amateur fishermen, as it was 
celebrated for bass, and its waters were undis- 
turbed by steamboats and untainted by the 



320 Last Days of 

refuse of factory or sewer. The natural beau- 
ties which distinguished the home of Mr. Hall 
were cultivated with a lavish hand ; broad 
avenues lined with forest trees led to well-ar- 
ranged flower gardens, ornamented with artifi- 
cial ponds and other tasty appliances which 
rendered the place one of the main attractions 
to visitors from abroad. Mr, Hall was one of 
the few Northern gentlemen who was devotedly 
interested in the noble horse ; his stalls were 
filled with noted racers of the purest strain, and 
as a sequence he was courted by the prominent 
spirits of the turf, who shared with the gener- 
ous proprietor his love for field sports unmixed 
with the Hippodrome trickery and modern 
swindling practices which, of late years, have 
brought disgrace upon the race-course both in 
this country and in England. Could Charles 
Henry Hall, Col. Johnston of Virginia, Gib- 
bons of New Jersey, W. T. Porter of the Spirit 
of the Tifnes, with scores of other lovers of the 
horse who might be named, "revisit the pale 
glimpses of the moon," they would hail with 
delight the advent of Jerome Park, and bid the 
American Jockey Club godspeed in their en- 
deavor to return the lost prestige of racing and 
redeem the turf from the filth which late years 



Knickerbockei' Life. 321 

have strewn around that once dienified and 
manly sport. 

The old Hall mansion still stands, shorn of 
its broad acres and commanding- attractions. 
Modern improvement is fast sweeping away 
the landmarks, of the past generation and will 
soon decree its utter annihilation, when it will 
be remembered only for a short time by the 
few survivors who in years gone by partook of 
the princely hospitality dispensed within its 
walls, while listening to the learned disquisi- 
tions of the assembled guests on the rival 
strains of blooded stock for the turf or road. 

In those days Third Avenue (then best 
known as the '' Macadamized Road " ) was the 
trotting road over which our sires exercised 
their favorite nags. Hostelries dotted the 
drive at convenient distances, at which man 
and beast could procure the needed refresh- 
ment, and they were furnished as now with 
broad piazzas from which horsemen could scan 
and discuss the merits of the flyers. They had 
trotters in those days, and good ones, too, — 
Dexter, Lady Thorn, Goldsmith Maid, Amer- 
ican Girl, Mountain Boy, Butler, and a few 
more noted ones may have knocked some sec- 
onds from the 2.40 standard of speed ; but 



322 Last Days of 

Dutchman, Confidence, Abdallah, Rifle, Ned 
Forrest, Peggy Magee, Ice Pony, etc., yet hold 
a good position on the records of fast time, 
while Dutchman's three-mile time is unex- 
punged, and still challenges the efforts of 
Young America. 

In our mind's eye we can see those quad- 
rupeds of the past champing the bit under 
Cato's shed, then one of the noted halting- 
places of the road. This Cato was a famous 
man in his generation. A sable son of Africa, 
he lived and died respected in a community 
far more aristocratic and exclusive than its 
more pretentious democratic successors, yet 
it was unbiased by any tinge of modern aboli- 
tion doctrine ; a community which knew noth- 
ing of sensational issues. Cato was black, but 
long intimate contact with the gentlemen he 
served had imparted to his gentle, modest 
nature an unpretending dignity of manner, 
which won the esteem of all who approached 
him and secured for his humble house of 
entertainment such a widespread reputation, 
that for years it was one of the prominent 
resorts of our citizens, and attracted many 
of the prominent sight-seers who made pil- 
grimages to the island of Manhattan. 



Knickerbocker Life. 323 

Cato's house was located on a side road, 
or lane, as it was called, leading from the 
Third Avenue nearly opposite the point where 
the old shot-tower still stands, and in close 
proximity to the summer residence of the 
Beekman family, then as now large landed 
proprietors. The quaint old barroom and 
diminutive sitting-room with their sanded 
floors were scrupulously neat ; the coarse, 
whitewashed walls, covered with odd engrav- 
ings of the olden time, would prove rare 
curiosities to-day. But they, with their pro- 
prietor, have long since passed away. Piles 
of brick and mortar now occupy the site where 
Cato daily dispensed creature comforts to the 
Hones, Carters, Beekmans, Tallmadges, Jane- 
ways, Van Cortlandts, and others, with their 
many friends. 

After buying our cigars — Cigars ! — the 
name recalls the fact that Cato sold five cigars 
for one shilling — real cigars at that ; no Dutch 
cabbage leaves with Connecticut wrappers ; 
for when enjoyed they emitted an aroma which 
would shame articles now disposed of at 
twenty-five cents each by our leading Broad- 
way shops. The reader will please bear in 
mind that a dollar had some weight in those 



324 Last Days of 

primitive days, and that it was treated with 
some considerable respect by the fortunate 
possessor ; for it would buy three times the 
amount of food or pleasure that can now be 
procured with its modern representative. Dol- 
lars, like our population, have increased in 
numbers ; quantity not quality is now the 
rage, and the man who thirty years since 
had an income of five thousand dollars, could 
enjoy all the comforts now within the reach 
of the possessor of twenty. At that time 
many of the extravagant luxuries of to-day 
were unknown ; but a glass of Cato's brandy 
(price six and a quarter cents) cannot now be 
obtained on the road at any figure. Bourbon 
whisky perhaps, has a tendency to develop 
more speed, as a little of that delectable 
beverage "goes a great way." So let 's drop 
that question and swing up the Lane. 

Cato's Lane, long since closed, was one of 
the spurting spots on the drive. It was a 
semi-circular road about three-quarters of a 
mile in length, leading from the Third Avenue, 
and again meeting it at a point not far distant 
from the spot on which now stands the Third 
Avenue Railroad Depot at Sixty-fifth Street. 
No steel rail was then dreamed of on the 



in 




m. w^ 



Knickerbocker Life. 325 

avenue, neither was any needed for the traffic. 
The few scattered dwellers of Yorkville and 
Harlem were amply accommodated by a line 
of stages, which passed at intervals of two 
or three hours, and in due course of time, for 
there was no hurry then, landed their human 
freight at Park Row or Harlem Bridge as the 
case might be ; where, after the driver had 
refreshed his inner man, and to the best of 
his ability divided the receipts of the trip 
between himself and the proprietors, leisurely 
started on the return journey. The appoint- 
ments of this stage enterprise can be vividly 
recalled. Omnibuses do wear out ; that is 
conceded by all ; but omnibus horses and 
omnibus drivers are by many believed to be 
immortal. The High Bridge line seems to 
vindicate this theory, for we imagine we can 
see hitched to these creaking drags the very 
same wheezing quadrupeds which struggled up 
the Yorkville hill, propelled by the identical 
" whips " who officiated more than thirty years 
ago. This may be mere surmise, but the 
resemblance to both is so striking as to give to 
the theory the full benefit of the doubt. But 
enough of this wool-gathering. 

We left Cato's, seated behind the trotter 



326 Last Days of 

Ion. This Ion, named after a favorite charac- 
ter personated by a favorite actress, Miss 
Ellen Tree, afterward Mrs. Charles Kean, 
was a good specimen of the road horse of 
the time ; he was a wiry little bay, of the 
half-broken, pulling type, who could trot when 
they had a mind to, but run away and break 
things whenever the opportunity offered. He 
had been trained, like the rest of his class, to 
walk when on the cobble-stone pavement, and 
while going at that gait he hung his head to 
a level with his knees and to all appearance 
was as gentle as a lamb ; but the instant the 
pavement was passed the brute grabbed the 
bit, threw out his nose, stiffened his neck, 
elevated his six-inch tail and started on his 
break-neck dash. In these raids he was 
usually accompanied by several of his stripe, — 
we say accompanied, for he was an independ- 
ent horse : he respected neither whoa nor hoa, 
and only ceased pulling and dragging when 
the shed was reached ; when, throwing him- 
self back into the breechino-, he let 0^0 his 
hold and calmly turned to see if he had suc- 
ceeded in dislocating the arms of his driver, 
or rather of the powerless automaton who 
was being propelled at the will and pleasure 



Knickerbocker Life. 327 

of the headstrong brute. Home trainers have 
materially changed their views since then ; 
and the theory that arms and reins were 
better than traces for the promotion of speed 
is happily exploded. 

The Hazard House, located on the crown 
of Yorkville Hill at Eighty-second Street, was 
famous in its day as being the resort of those 
who delighted in speed and loved to indulge 
in home talk. Its extensive stables were filled 
with animals awaiting purchasers, whose points 
and merits were intoned with a manner and 
in language so truthful, so confidential — such 
language as professional dealers alone are 
gifted with — that it must be heard to be ap- 
preciated, for, if attempted by unprofessional 
pretenders, the charm is at once dispelled. 
The look, the shrug, the half unconscious 
smoothing of a horse's coat, cannot be de- 
scribed : they sell the kicker, the cribber, the 
lame, the halt, the blind, and with the same 
unaltered, bland expression congratulate the 
lucky purchaser, — no, the real professional 
dealer does not sell, he merely "lets you 
have," for in his eyes the noble horse is above 
price or barter. 

The true dealer's love for the horse is to 



o 



328 Last Days of 

all outward appearance so deeply seated, that 
to part with one, even at his own price, seems 
to wring the fibres of his tender heart. This 
love cannot be hypocritical, it must be real ; 
it belongs to this peculiar traffic, and in some 
special manner is communicated from horse 
to man ; it was apparent at the Hazard House 
when that famed hostelry was in its prime 
it is equally apparent to-day after the lapse 
of years ; — it must be real. Outside barbari- 
ans, with no sentiment in their nature, " no 
music in their souls," do, in their ignorance, 
rail at these exemplary members of society, 
call them horse-thieves, and other equally 
harsh names. Such unbelievers should visit 
these gentle dealers at their stables, and while 
inspecting the stock, listen to the soothing 
tones addressed to each roadster led out for 
examination ; and if still unconverted, take 
a short drive with the professional horse lover 
behind some favorite pet, to part with which 
would be like severing the most tender tie ; 
listen as he chants his praise, and if your heart 
be not hard as flint it will melt, and the deal- 
er's magic suavity will convict you of unbelief, 
and force you to confess that you have here- 
tofore wronged a model man. Come, Ion, 



Knickerbocker Life. 329 

now for another desperate pull ; the last man 
at the Red House pays the shot. 

From Hazard's to the Red House the dis- 
tance was about one mile, and as the Third 
Avenue at this point was all down grade, going 
north, it was a favorite spot for the display of 
speed. Here on every pleasant afternoon the 
show of horseflesh was extensive and varied, 
and did not compare unfavorably with what is 
seen nowadays on the celebrated Harlem Lane. 
Rigged to Ford wagons (Ford was the most 
noted maker of trotting vehicles of the time), 
flyers, double and single, contended for the 
championship of the Road. In memory, on a 
given day we see George Janeway with Dutch- 
man and mate ; Dr. Valk of Flushing, driving 
a black team of acknowledged speed ; George 
W. Miller, of the New York Tattersalls, be- 
hind Peggy Magee and Ice Pony ; William 
Janeway guiding a pair of cropped sorrels; 
General Dunham with his powerful Moscow ; 
William Cowan, of the Crosby Street Bazaar, 
urging Sally Miller ; William T. Porter, " The 
Tall Son of York," shouting vigorously to 
Confidence in his endeavor to head Abdallah, 
the famous stallion, handled in those days by 
Mr. Treadwell, a veteran with the ribbons, 



330 Last Days of 

who in spurts showed a gait which made the 
old-fashioned queue, which the old gentleman 
persistently wore until his death, stand out 
straight behind ; while in the crowd were Pel- 
ham, Honest John, Cayuga Maid, Lady Bemis, 
Tacony, Mac, and scores of other "good ones," 
all striving for the lead at the Red House 
Gate. 

It was on this speeding ground that the 
world-renowned Flora Temple made her first 
appearance. For a time this cross-grained, 
wiry, and occasionally sulky little bay mare 
was owned and driven by John C. Perrin. 
She had been brought to New York to sell by 
a Washington Hollow dealer, who in his turn 
had selected her from a drove at the low figure 
of eighty dollars. Though she had no known 
pedigree, her fine blood-like head, well-set 
neck, firm shoulders, straight back, powerful 
forearms and general display of muscle, at- 
tracted the attention of the shrewd horseman. 
After more than ordinary care and training at 
the hands of her owner, she gradually devel- 
oped the qualities of a first-class trotter, — the 
crazy-flighted, half-racking, half-trotting little 
bay mare settled down into a true stepper. 
She was at once put upon the track, and though 



Knickerbocker Life. 331 

successful in the main, her wonderful powers 
developed slowly. 

One of her subsequent drivers, James D. 
McMann, has always claimed that he was cer- 
tain that some day she would prove a wonder. 
But Mr. Perrin and his friends little dreamed 
of the triumph she would achieve in her prime. 
She became the favorite wonder of the sporting 
world, — such a wonder, that owners of certain 
strains of blood and breeders of certain locali- 
ties hotly contended for the credit which would 
attach to her birthplace. After many warmly 
contested races against the most noted flyers 
the country could produce, she had emblazoned 
on her stall, "-Flora Temple, Queen of the 
Trotting Turf — 2.19 3-4." As but few com- 
petitors ventured to dispute her title, the won- 
derful animal was devoted by her owners to 
the somewhat doubtful performances at agri- 
cultural fairs ; and, accompanied by the cele- 
brated Ethan Allen and Princess, the tour of 
the United States was made. Everywhere, at 
fairs and on race-tracks, the Oueen was greeted 
with cheers, though her brilliant record has 
been wiped out by Dexter, Goldsmith Maid, 
and one or two more celebrities on the turf. 
About the same date another horse celebrity 



2)Z~ Last Days of 

appeared, and attracted much attention both 
on the road and track. A long-bodied, low- 
swinging gray mare was now and then driven 
over from Long Island, and challenged all for 
a friendly brush on the avenue. Lady Suffolk, 
the animal referred to, had made her debut on 
the Beacon track, a race-course located a few 
miles back of Hoboken, and extensively pat- 
ronized by the horsemen of New York. On 
her first appearance, both the mare and her 
driver demonstrated that neither was unso- 
phisticated. She was entered in 3i green purse, 
and won so handily that some tall talking was 
indulged in by the owners and drivers of her dis- 
comfited competitors. Dave Bryant, the owner 
and driver of Lady Suffolk, knew the wonderful 
powers of his mare, but he was penurious and 
egotistical in the extreme. He overworked 
and maltreated the noble creature ; while she, 
in spite of all drawbacks, developed speed and 
lasting qualities which for years were un- 
equalled ; and there are not a few trainers of 
the present day who affirm that, had Suffolk 
been handled with the care now exercised, her 
performances would have stood unrivalled on 
the trotting turf. Others might be noticed, 
but these bright horse "stars" will suffice to 



Knickerbocker Life. 333 

show that the tabooed Third Avenue was not 
destitute of attractions for the lover of the 
horse ; and that the reader may be enabled 
to inspect at leisure and comment on them 
and their drivers let them lounge for an hour 
or so on the broad piazza of the Red House. 




CHAPTER XIII. 



An afternoon on the Road — The Red House and its 
adornments, Lewis Rogers its proprietor — Edmund 
Jones — Dandy Marx — William Harrington leader of 
the Bowery Boys — Sam Segue the artistic horse 
dealer — " Mr.", Rowan the church going horse trader 
— William T. Porter, the true sportsman and culti- 
vated gentleman — Professional Drivers and Trainers 
— Hiram Woodruff — Road racing — Ned Luff the 
jolly free hearted host — Bradshaw's hotel at 125th 
street and 3rd avenue — George W. Thompson the 
famous ball player — The old clock — William Vyse — 
— " Gentleman ", George L. Pride, the mystery con- 
cerning him — Gilley Browne — Bruce Hunter — Burn- 
ham's Mansion House and its attractions — Corporal 
Thompson's hostelry, where the Fifth Avenue Hotel 
now stands — Its distinguished frequenters — Adieu to 
the Bloomingdale road — Transformation in equi- 
pages. 

THE Red House was located on a plot of 
many acres, which was entered from 
Third Avenue by a road at about the point 
where One Hundred and Fifth Street is now 
cut through to the Harlem River. The main 

334 



Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 335 

building was originally the residence of Will- 
iam McGowan, whose descendants are still 
the possessors of an extended domain in the 
immediate vicinity. It was a roomy edifice, 
admirably adapted for a public road house ; 
while the extensive grounds, upon which there 
was a well-kept, half-mile trotting course, 
offered extraordinary inducements to the driv- 
ers, and consequently made it a prominent 
resort. One of its earliest proprietors was 
Lewis Rogers. He was a dapper little man, 
always dressed in the tip of fashion and as 
neat and trim in the appointments of his house, 
as in his personal attire. Fancy dogs, rare 
singing birds, choice plants were his special 
weakness, while the walls of his rooms were 
covered with the most tasteful engravings 
money could purchase. Like a wise publican, 
he spared neither time nor means in stocking 
both his cellar and larder with the choicest 
commodities in the market. In this last he 
was doubtless aided and encouraged by his 
father-in-law ; for what old or middle-aged resi- 
dent does not with pleasure recall the good 
cheer dispensed by Edmund Jones, first at the 
Second Ward Hotel, in Nassau Street between 
Fulton and John, and subsequently, until his 



2,2,^ Last Days of 

death, at the celebrated Claremont, on the 
Bloomingdale Road. 

After years of Hfe and passing associations 
have almost imperceptibly crowded one and 
another from memory, the ideal of Lew Rogers 
remains as vivid as when daily seen and con- 
versed with in youth. He was a " big'' little 
man — not only a courteous host, but a host in 
himself. He was an accomplished horseman, 
thoroughly versed in the mysterious lingo of 
the craft, and always posted in the secrets 
of the knowing ones. We youngsters listened 
to him as to an oracle, and received his opin- 
ions on such vital points as were mooted, with- 
out question or doubt. He was posted in the 
varied sporting intelligence of the period, 
obtained by his winning manner to all grades 
who patronized his house : in fine, we looked 
upon him as a walking encyclopaedia of horse 
racing, cock fighting, rat baiting, prize fight- 
ing, and the other innocent pastimes in which 
we clandestinely indulged, against the advice 
and consent of our respected sires and guar- 
dians. 

The Red House was just the spot in which 
to lounge away an hour ; it afforded ample 
scope for the study of character, as each class 



K7iicker backer Life. 2iZl 

of citizens was sure to be represented. The 
Broadway exquisite was there in the person 
of " Dandy Marx." This conspicuous and 
eccentric young man was tall and slight, by 
no means ill favored, and possessed far more 
brains than he was credited with by the com- 
munity at large. He dressed in the English 
neglige style, then considered outre, but which 
at present would be far behind the mode ; be- 
sides he wore a moustache, at the time looked 
upon as a foreign assumption — in fact he 
dressed and demeaned himself in advance of 
his time. Born at the South, he usually spoke 
with the drawl of a genuine cockney, and as- 
sumed in public the stiff, reticent air of a 
London 7wb. His equipages were many and 
varied, copied from foreign models, and he 
dressed his servants in livery which was a 
marked peculiarity as compared with Knick- 
erbocker simplicity. He usually rode unac- 
companied in his drag, driving a splendid 
team, and not infrequently sported a four-in- 
hand which he handled with consummate skill. 
Marx was truly a prominent character ; he did 
not mingle in ladies' society, though his mother 
and sisters were always attired in the height 
of fashion, and were possessed of an ample 



33^ Last Days of 

fortune. There was a seclusiveness about the 
family circle which was ever unexplained. As 
a rule Marx was alone in his strolls or drives, 
the exception being the presence of his sister, 
who was acknowledged to be a horsewoman 
of rare excellence. 

In the person of William Harrington we had 
before us a representative man of a very dif- 
ferent but numerous class. He was the fa- 
mous leader of a type now rapidly becoming 
extinct, and which in his and their time were 
styled Bowery Boys. These Boys were, to say 
the least, peculiar, in their habits, demeanor, 
and conversation ; but they must not on that 
score be confounded or identified with the 
rough outlaws of to-day who pretend to legiti- 
mate succession ; for even though the latter 
spring from the same source, it is not true. 
The B'hoy of forty years since did not asso- 
ciate with imported criminals ; there was a 
pride in his peculiar swagger, which his mod- 
ern imitators vainly attempt. The Bowery 
Boy of old did not live upon plunder or his 
wits, he was early apprenticed to some trade ; 
to be a " boss butcher " was the acme of his 
ambition. His week days were spent in per- 
forming the labor of his peculiar calling, which 



Knickerbocker Life. 339 

was only suspended for the time when the 
alarm of fire impelled him to drop his imple- 
ments of trade and rush to meet his engine on 
her headlong way to aid in extinguishing a 
conflagration. 

Of this class William Harrington was an ac- 
knowledged leader. He was a man of large 
frame and wonderful strength. For years he 
figured in the "■ roped arena," and not a few 
powerful opponents were compelled to own 
him master. Boss Harrington, as he was 
familiarly styled, was an actor in all the ex- 
citements of his time ; whether at the polls 
during election, for he was an uncompromising 
Whig ; or on the race-course when Boston and 
Fashion were straining every muscle for vic- 
tory, he was prominent in the foreground ; a 
protector to the weak and timid, a terror to 
sneak-thieves and ruffians. A butcher by trade, 
he amassed an ample competency which in 
after-life he scattered in companionship with 
his admirers with a too lavish hand, and ended 
his career of excitement and sport by passing 
away when full of years, either by suicide as 
some aver, or by the hand of some cowardly 
assassin. 

Another genus homo was always to be met 



340 Last Days of 

with at the Red House, and a brief description 
of one or two of the most marked specimens 
will suffice to convey a correct idea of the fra- 
ternity. Sam Segue was a well-known horse 
dealer ; his home, if memory correctly serves, 
was at Albany, but New York was the usual 
field he preferred for the display of his equine 
blandishments. The stock he dealt in was, as 
a rule, first-class, and in most instances he con- 
fined his attention to carriage teams. Style, 
not speed, was his forte. Sam was a rubicund 
man, with a well-cultivated bland expression of 
the eye, and so far as the public knew, a model 
of amiability. His anxiety seemed to lie in 
what exact proportion he should divide his su- 
perabundant love between horse and customer. 
The " pictures " he had to dispose of were his 
special care ; they were groomed to a nicety, 
and each particular hair in mane or tail so ar- 
ranged as to do its whole duty. He carefully 
studied all the minute appointments of his 
turnout, and in trim neatness he was far ahead 
of his few competitors in the market. 

Broadway in the morning and the road in 
the afternoon were his parade grounds, where, 
with a single eye to business, he carelessly nod- 
ded to some passing acquaintance ; though 



Knickerbocker Life. 341 

he never forpfot the main issue in brlnorina- 
prominently to view the telHng points of 
the " star-gazers " he was then guiding with a 
master hand ; — ever on the alert to check on the 
instant any impropriety the unruly beasts might 
attempt, and at the same time assume an easy 
confident manner which would convince all pass- 
ers-by of the perfect training and docility of his 
team. Well oiled, well peppered, well checked 
up, they were no slouches, and to use one of 
Sam's well remembered favorite expressions, 
" they were no mud-turtles, but fixed their gaze 
on the attic windows as they trotted past." 
Sam was a sharp dealer in a trade " when Greek 
met Greek," and had the credit of being seldom 
over-reached. As a talker he was awarded the 
first premium at Tattersalls, then prominently 
located on Broadway, between Grand and 
Howard ; and whether he is still chanting 
equine praises, or has abandoned his original 
field of usefulness, the writer is ignorant ; cer- 
tain it is that for long years his genial face has. 
been missed, and no one of the present genera- 
tion of professional horsemen resembles in the 
faintest degree the remembrance of Sam Segue, 
the king of jockeys. 

Rowan was a confrere and contemporary 



342 Last Days of 

with Segue. Though he was actively engaged 
in the same delectable calling, the men were 
perfect antipodes of each other. Rowan was 
called Mr. Rowan. If he possessed any Chris- 
tian name it was never mentioned outside of 
the sacred precinct of his domestic circle ; for 
there was a something in his appearance which 
acted as a bar to the slightest approach to 
familiarity. In dress and address he assumed 
the clerical style. A suit of sombre black, 
generally well glazed with continuous wear, 
constituted his outside gear, and he invariably 
donned a white cravat to make the imitation 
more perfect. His manner was in keeping 
with his apparel ; cold, smileless, reticent, he 
relied upon his peculiar make-up to proclaim 
his pretensions to extra honesty. Could such 
a saintly being conceal a fault or hide a blem- 
ish ? Irresponsible stable boys, doubtless act- 
uated by malice, did venture to assert that this 
pattern man at times employed his tongue in 
the use of other words than those especially 
adapted for prayers, and that he would furi- 
ously belabor some poor beast which had unwit- 
tingly winced or wheezed, and by such unseemly 
conduct had broken up a prosperous trade, 
but in public he was never seen to maltreat a 



Knickerbocker Life. 343 

horse or heard to utter an oath during the 
long years of his industry, which was prover- 
bial and knew no bounds. Six days of the 
week he devoted to the buying, selling, and 
trading of cripples of every grade, and on the 
seventh day arrayed in a fresh white cravat and 
a more presentable suit of sable, he dedicated 
himself to exhorting sinners to repentance at 
a Methodist church, where he figured as a 
prominent pillar and a shining light. 

With such an example on record who will 
dare assert that passionate love for the horse 
is incompatible with the exercise of high moral 
qualities in man. Many, doubtless, who still 
linger in Gotham can readily recall the man 
described. They will bear witness that if 
Rowan was tricky he never betrayed any out- 
ward evidence of success, and that the pocket 
in which he carried his money, if he ever pos- 
sessed any of the filthy lucre, was always under 
strong lock and key ; his charities must have 
been unostentatious, if charity was one of the 
attributes of his humanity. A character, he 
existed long in our midst. The above will 
suffice as the extremes of a class far less numer- 
ous then than now ; the trade has changed with 
the increased demand. Railroad and omnibus 



344 Last Days of 

companies require vast numbers of horses then 
rarely dealt in, and the men now prominent at 
Bull's Head should more properly be styled 
contractors ; for the wholesale traffic has divest- 
ed them of the peculiarities of the old-time 
jockey, whose sympathies were engrossed in 
one quadruped, or at most a pair, and on it or 
them he lavished the concentrated enthusiasm 
incident to his peculiar calling-. 

Passing to another and very different type 
of visitors who frequented the Red House, a 
man is recalled who for a quarter of a century 
stood prominent and alone in his adopted vo- 
cation. William T. Porter, the founder and ed- 
itor of The Spirit of the Times, a journal which 
was for years the acknowledged organ of the 
sports of turf and field. " The tall Son of York," 
as he was familiarly styled by his many friends 
throughout the length and breadth of the land, 
combined in his person all the requisite qual- 
ities to ensure success. His presence was 
commanding, of extraordinary height, with 
perfect proportion of limb ; a finely formed 
head, and a countenance which gave unmis- 
takable assurance of intellect, culture, and re- 
finement of the highest order. Endowed by 
nature with warm and tender sympathies, he 



Knickerbocker Life. 345 

drew around him by his pecuHar magnetism 
the most accomplished writers of the day ; 
among whom the late William Henry Her- 
bert figured conspicuously, and whose works 
on the horse are still the standard text-books 
of the breeders of America. Manly, invigo- 
rating sport was the topic of the Spirit, and it 
pervaded Porter's sanctum in Barclay Street. 
Blooded stock was his darling hobby, and woe 
betide the luckless wight who could not pro- 
duce a clear and well authenticated pedigree 
for his entry. By untiring industry and clear 
application, Porter's mind became a storehouse 
of equine lore ; he became the umpire in all 
disputed points, and his marvellous memory 
was the wonder of turfmen north, south, east, 
and west. Every true sportsman became his 
ally and contributed to the success of his pa- 
per ; so for a time he was on the high road to 
fame and fortune. Lavishly liberal, his purse 
was always open to succor the needy, and as a 
consequence scores of idle, worthless toadies 
became the recipients of his generous but indis- 
criminate bounty. 

Such was Porter in his early prime. 
Courted, caressed, flattered, his walk among 
kindred spirits was always an ovation. Guile- 



34^ Last Days of 

less as a little child he bestowed no thought on 
the morrow ; full of animal life, with good will 
toward all, his leisure moments were devoted 
to pleasure and the companionship of wits who 
ministered to his weaknesses, and he enjoyed 
the passing hour to the "top of his bent." 
Neglecting his golden opportunity to amass 
riches, the world in its ceaseless roll passed 
him by with the refuse of the age, and he woke 
as from a dream to find himself broken, friend- 
less, and alone. He had followed his much- 
loved brothers, Olcott, George, and Frank, all 
known men of rare talent, to their last resting 
place," and the flatterers who had basked in the 
noontide of his prosperity deserted him as the 
evening shadows of poverty drew nigh. To the 
disappointed, broken-hearted man no solace 
presented itself save the draught which blunts 
the recollection of ingratitude and soothes the 
pangs engendered by wasted opportunities. 
To that fatal draught he fled and clung to it 
until with shattered mind and wasted frame he 
was mercifully called to his long home. 

For professional drivers and trainers the 
Red House was a favorite rendezvous. To 
them the race-track was the main attraction, 
for rarely a day passed when their services 



Knickerbocker Life. 347 

were not required for some impromptu match. 
Charley Brooks, Jake Somerindyke, Isaac 
Woodruff, George Spicer, Clark Vandewater, 
James D. McMann, etc., were usually on hand, 
while occasionally Hiram Woodruff, William 
Wheeler, and Sim Hoagland would put in an 
appearance and give us outsiders a sight of 
some noted flyers who could "knock spots" 
out of three minutes. Americus, Trustee 
(trotted twenty miles within the hour), Ned 
Forrest, Yankee Doodle, Confidence, Rattler, 
Whalebone, Pelham, with lots of private nags, 
whose names are now forgotten because their 
deeds were unsung, would frequently give us 
a touch of their quality which would end with 
the usual amount of " horse talk," and "drinks 
all round" at the expense of the unfortunate 
owner of the animal, which for that special day 
chanced to be " out of fix." What " out of 
fix" rightly means no one ever rightly under- 
stands, but it is always assigned as the reason 
for every defeat ever met with on the turf. 
Horsemen never have and never will cry 
"beaten"; their motto is "try, try again," 
and in that spirit lies the life of sport. 

Many are the amusing anecdotes recalled 
by the associations connected with the Red 



348 Last Days of 

House, but unfortunately some of the promi- 
nent actors are still around, and lively at that ; 
and these might possibly think the recital of 
their youthful frolics and indiscretions would 
detract somewhat from their present dignified 
positions as respected grandsires, and mem- 
bers in high standing with our best metropol- 
itan society. So we are compelled to desist, 
as most of the incidents would be pointless if 
stripped of personality. 

But before bidding farewell to a spot fraught 
with so many pleasing reminiscences, we can- 
not forbear recording a passing tribute to a 
man who was for years its lessee, and during 
whose tenure the time-honored hostelry re- 
tained its prestige undimmed ; but on whose 
departure for more central and accessible 
quarters, it became in truth " a banquet hall 
deserted." Its course was run, and the old 
structure, now untenanted, shows no vestige 
of its former attractions to arrest the attention 
of the present generation. 

Ned Luff was for many years one of the 
most obliging, generous, and popular hosts 
on the road. He was eminently a progressive 
man, and in that lay the prime secret of his 
success. He lived up to the requirements 



Knickerbocker Life. 349 

of the times, kept young, and so adapted his 
house and its surroundings to meet the special 
demands of each succeeding class of patrons. 
He argued that tastes change, for he had seen 
over and over again one set of riders tire of 
the care and expense which invariably accom- 
pany the ownership of fast horses, and sell out 
to another set anxious to try its luck in the 
mysteries and mazes of horsedom ; the last 
soon disappearing from the drive, but being 
followed by another, surely " as the night the 
day." Many of these changes occurred dur- 
ing the term in which Luff dispensed creature 
comforts ; but each new flock of pleasure- 
seekers seemed by intuition to find him out, 
and no old roadster would pass his door with- 
out making a desperate lunge for the shed. 
To all he was courteous and acceptable, end- 
ing his career a publican in the harness of 
his trade on Harlem Lane. Jolly, free-hearted, 
he had hosts of friends, and no enemy, save 
one, who overruled his better judgment and 
hurried him to an untimely grave. Poor Luff ; 
the word " No " had not been taught him in 
youth ; he could not utter it even to King 
Alcohol. Good-bye to the Red House, too 
many painful thoughts of passing away pre- 



350 Last Days of 

sent themselves ; let us seek other sights 
which may be found at Bradshaw's, at Harlem. 
About one mile north of the Red House, 
on a fine, level road over Harlem Flats, was 
situated Bradshaw's Hotel. The curious in 
such matters can at any time inspect all that 
remains of the once famous hostelry by halt- 
ing for a moment on the corner of Third 
Avenue and One Hundred and Twenty-fifth 
Street. The roomy, double frame building 
is still there ; but, the grade having been 
materially changed, the old piazza which in 
former days afforded ample breathing and 
lounging room for the guests has been torn 
away ; the former parlor converted into a drug 
store : the wide hall is used for the sale of 
cigars, newspapers, and soda water, by the 
famous ball player, George W. Thompson ; 
and the old bar-room occupied as a bakery. 
"Here she o-oes and there she groes " — thou- 
sands will recall the threadbare anecdote of 
former times — seems to be written all over 
the venerable pile, and Thompson will point 
out to anyone the exact spot where the old 
clock stood. The visitors at Bradshaw's were 
many : it is only necessary to state that the 
extensive sheds on the north and west were 



Knickerbocker Life. 351 

insufficient to accommodate the quadrupeds, 
and the additional one erected on the opposite 
side of the avenue was often crowded. Brad- 
shaw's, being but a few hundred yards from 
Harlem Bridge, was virtually the turning- 
point of the drive, and consequently a long 
rest was taken by many who made it their 
only stopping-place on the road. 

There were at that time moderate as well 
as " fast " men ; and, though both classes of rid- 
ers patronized this unexceptionable house, we 
will more particularly notice some of those who 
did not habitually pull up either at the Red 
House or Hazard's. Besides this class of our 
own citizens there were quite a number of the 
residents of Westchester, Pelham, New Ro- 
chelle, etc., who were frequent visitors on the 
drive, that they might "air a green colt," and 
take some of the conceit out of the Gotham- 
ites by giving the dust to some favorite road- 
ster. Of New Yorkers who were habitues, we 
recall William Vyse, a gentleman who for many 
seasons drove a bay horse, which for size, speed, 
and action combined, would challenge compe- 
tition to-day among the thousands of splendid, 
high-bred animals to be seen in Central Park, 
horses which are the pride of the breeders of 



3 52 Last Days of 

Orange County and Kentucky. He was as 
large and heavy-limbed as a truck horse, his 
coat was as silky as a thoroughbred, and at 
every point exhibited indisputable signs of 
blood. His action was high and nimble, and 
there were few animals on the road that could 
beat him to the pavements, rigged as he gen- 
erally was to a heavy two-wheeled tilbury ; 
and his owner, who was sociable in his dispo- 
sition, was usually accompanied by a boon 
companion. 

Next on the list, and always a welcome ar- 
rival, was the genial George L. Pride, a great 
admirer of fine horses. Gentleman George 
affected style rather than speed, and his turn- 
out was always in perfect keeping with the 
outward appearance of the man ; neat, trim, 
expensive, but never gaudy. Under all cir- 
cumstances both driver and horse were inva- 
riably cool and self-possessed, ever ready for 
effect. No fatigue was ever indicated by 
either, and a most perfect understanding 
seemed to exist between master and servant 
as the stately grey ambled slowly up the road. 
George Pride was a singular compound; a 
sort of providential blessing in his way, for he 
formed the exciting topic at many a tea party, 



Knickerbocker' Life. 353 

which otherwise would have proved a silent, 
unseasoned meeting. 

In his day New York could produce but few 
young men, or middle-aged men, who were not 
actively engaged in business pursuits ; conse- 
quently Broadway, from Canal Street to the 
Battery (the only promenade), was given over 
almost entirely to the belles and their mammas 
for uninterrupted shopping, which was then a 
much more serious occupation than the gala 
pastime it now presents. But few male inter- 
lopers intruded upon the fair damsels to dis- 
tract them during the momentous duty of 
selecting the same pattern of the same stuff 
which everybody else wore ; but prominent 
among the few was Pride, who always saun- 
tered along dressed in his most precise style. 
His manner toward the fair sex was invariably 
respectful and undemonstrative, at times even 
bashful as a timid girl ; still there was a cer- 
tain something about the man which would 
attract the ladies, and render him always a 
choice morsel of gossip with spinsters and 
dames. Old men did not exactly know whence 
came the abundant means which enabled him 
to lead an apparently idle life ; the old maids 
looked doubtfully over their spectacles ; while 



354 Z«^/ Days of 

the young girls could not help casting sly, fur- 
tive glances at the good-looking mystery they 
almost invariably met in their morning strolls. 
Thus for many long years George lived and 
thrived, and was conspicuous until lost in the 
rapid growth of the city, which growth has 
proved a death-blow to 'all individuality in our 
midst. Were he alive to-day he could pass 
unknown and unnoticed from Harlem River 
to the Battery, save by the few who claimed 
kindred or courted some favor. Such the 
difference between the Knickerbocker city and 
the metropolis of New York. 

Up drive a bevy of young men who were 
called gay in those days, who lived at a fashion- 
able boarding-house, presided over by Miss 
Margaret Mann ; a famous woman then, and 
she would be now in this bloomer age. In 
those days to hail from Miss Mann's was a sure 
passport, and the young men who could afford 
the luxury (one dollar per day), were sure to 
be known to fame. Some of them kept their 
horses, and good ones at that, at Henry Wal- 
ters' stable on Lumber Street. A most mis- 
erable shed it would appear if compared with 
the palatial equine bazaars now so common in 
our midst. After the toil of the day was over, 



Knickerbocker Life, 355 

they would spin up to Bradshaw's. Of these 
" bloods," Ned Andareise, Frank Waldo, 
Wash McLean, — the Colonel still lives, a 
splendid monument of early piety and out- 
door exercise, — Dick Sheppard, Frank Steven- 
son, and one or two more who afterwards fell 
from grace, viz. : became poor, — were fair 
specimens of the respectable fashionable class. 
Precise in their dress and appointments, they 
were careful not to violate openly any of the 
prescribed conventionalities of life. They 
were gay, not dissipated, for dissipation was 
ranked with low vulgarity, and was a certain 
bar to success. By the crowd on the road and 
by men who were their equals in everything 
but self-control, they were pronounced proud 
upstarts ; yet, notwithstanding all this prudence,, 
the love of the horse and of sport was in them, 
and before the magic theme of horse talk they 
threw aside reserve and listened with eager- 
ness to the orator of the day. 

A frequent horse orator at Bradshaw's, was 
a well-known Westchester man, who would 
have proved a rare subject for the pen of Boz, 
as in richness of surroundings he far surpassed 
the obese parent of Mr. Samuel Weller. Gil- 
ley Brown cannot be fitly described. Were 



35^ Last Days of 

he still in the land of the living, the presidency 
of the fat men's association would be conceded 
to him beyond a doubt. He was a ponderous 
individual, and as jolly as he was weighty. 
Rich, far beyond his necessities, by inheritance, 
he naturally took to horses, and became in his 
own peculiar way a most inveterate trader in 
stock, and to that he devoted the entire time 
he could spare from his prime duty to himself, 
viz., eating and drinking. That Gilley was 
sometimes " stuck " in a " swap " is not singu- 
lar ; but his uniform good nature when he as- 
certained the fact made him a perfect hero in 
our juvenile eyes. Beset by sharps on every 
side, he managed somehow to get rid of his 
hard bargains without omitting a meal or de- 
nying himself a single drink. Rumor had it 
that when he chanced upon " something very 
bad " he headed at once for New Rochelle, for 
the purpose of having a trade with a man who 
never failed him in his extremity ; for Bill 
Shute could manage the sale of anything that 
stood on ** all fours," and in case Gilley was 
successful, would kindly lend him a " kicker " 
to reach home. 

Gilley's visits to Shute were not infrequent, 
and were looked upon as gala days by the bar- 



Knickerbocker Life. 357 

room loungers. Both men were sharp, treats 
were frequent, and old Falstaff, whether ahead 
in pocket or " dead broke," always left for 
home in the " wee sma' hours " as happy as 
a lord. This was the Gilley Brown who was 
always honored by a large audience as he 
wheezingly discoursed on the superlative mer- 
its of some favorite roadster, which was in- 
variably pronounced as entirely too valuable 
" to cart him around." Bruce Hunter, Tom 
Reynolds, Sam Cowdrey, Den McCreedy, and 
other Westchester riders always welcomed the 
fat man as a genuine companion on the road. 
We regret quitting Bradshaw's and its many 
associations so abruptly ; but time warns us, 
so we will jog back to the city by the Bloom- 
ingdale Road ; bid adieu to speed, horse talk, 
and trotting dust ; while taking a retrospective 
glance at the more quiet resorts, frequented 
by those who did not consider the Third 
Avenue and its bustle quite comme il faut. 
What is now One Hundred and Twenty- 
fifth Street was the travelled road which 
crossed the northern end of the Island. It 
intersected the Bloomingdale Road at the foot 
of the hill, where the suburb of Manhattanville, 
now grown to respectable dimensions, is lo- 



35 8 Last Days of 

cated. Above this point of intersection there 
were but few residences of any special preten- 
sions, and not a single hotel until Kingsbridge 
was reached. The mansion of Madame Jumel, 
famous as the widow of Aaron Burr, was per- 
haps the most extensive and imposing ; the 
Bradhurst estate, on the corner of Breakneck 
Hill, now being levelled and " citified" by the 
serpentine St. Nicholas Avenue, which has 
swallowed up Harlem Lane, name and all, was 
next in prominence, while the more unpreten- 
tious houses of Shepherd Knapp, Gideon Lee, 
and Richard F. Carman are the only residences 
of any note recalled. 

Carmansville and the sumptuous homes of 
Washington Heights have sprung up like 
magic, and the coming generation will witness 
improvements in that once rocky locality which 
will be unequalled in any city in the world. 
South of One Hundred and Twenty-fifth 
Street the Bloomingdale Road was far more 
thickly settled. On the Hudson River, at this 
point, still stands a venerable pile, now and for 
many years past known as Claremont. This 
elegant structure was originally reared for a 
private residence. The spacious building bears 
witness to the enlarged ideas and ample means 



Knickerbocker Life. 359 

of the projector, while his taste in selection of 
locality is amply testified by the grand view 
which is afforded from every point. Its rear 
overlooks the noble Hudson, and the coup 
d'oeil on a clear day, reaches from the High- 
lands of Navesink to St. Anthony's Nose and 
the Palisades ; its equal for extent and beauty 
being rarely met with during extended travel. 
Thousands have enjoyed the enchanting scene 
since the house became a public resort, and 
was made famous as a house of entertainment 
many years since, by the late Edmund Jones. 
Bloomingdale Road is now virtually closed. 
Seemingly a short time since it was a coun- 
try drive of unsurpassed beauty, "up hill 
and down dale," varied with many a curve, 
and at short intervals enlivened by an en- 
chanting view of the Hudson. Independent of 
its numerous public resorts, many unpretend- 
ing country seats were scattered along, whose 
occupants, mostly of Knickerbocker origin, 
little dreamed in their quiet seclusion how soon 
their favorite landmarks and bowers were to 
be swept away by the greed of public im- 
provement. The Abbey and Woodlawn, both 
situated south of Claremont, were largely 
patronized in their day. The latter, once the 



360 Last Days of 

residence of Dr. Moffatt, the original "pill 
man " of America, was very popular under the 
management of Capt. W. L. Wiley, a great 
political favorite in his immediate neighbor- 
hood. Next, jogging down a steep lane, we 
alight at a secluded snuggery called Stryker's 
Bay, one of the most unpretending yet attrac- 
tive houses on the drive. At that time its 
landlord was a Mr. Francis, who during his 
proprietorship perfected his celebrated life- 
boat, which invention subsequently made him 
both famous and rich. The little house was 
in a nook sheltered from all points, save from 
the west, where the fine view of the River 
amply repaid many a visitor. 

Adjoining Stryker's Bay on the south, and 
separated only by a minute inlet, was the sum- 
mer retreat of Dr. Valentine Mott. It pre- 
sented no special attractions of interest for the 
curious, but seemed to have been selected by 
its owner simply as a quiet resting place, 
where real relaxation from the toils and cares 
of an arduous professional career could be had 
without restraint or the fear of interruption. 

In close proximity to the last mentioned 
place, and the point where Ninety-second 
Street, formerly known as Jauncey Lane, inter- 



Knickerbocker Life. 361 

sects the Grand Boulevard, was located the 
elegant and expensive country seat of Colonel 
Thorne, one of the most dashino- men of his 
generation. His fine physique and courtly 
bearing were proverbial. During many years 
of his fashionable career he resided perma- 
nently at Paris, and was one of the prominent 
notables of that gay metropolis during the 
reign of Louis Philippe. In early life Col. 
Thorne married Miss Jauncey, a wealthy heir- 
ess, whose family ranked high among the 
Knickerbockers. This pretentious hom.e was 
situated in an enclosure of many acres, thickly 
studded with majestic elms. Many of the 
trees still stand ; the elaborate, highly-furnished 
house is fast going to decay, and the name of 
Elm Park, the scene of many aristocratic enter- 
tainments, is now only associated with lager 
beer, target excursions, and cheap summer balls. 
Burnham's Mansion House! Thousands of 
middle-aged men and women can to-day recall 
the many gambols they enjoyed in childhood 
on Burnham's lawn ; they cannot fail to re- 
member with vividness the smile of welcome 
they received from the kind old host and his 
motherly wife, who were always at the door to 
*' welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." 



362 Last Days of 

The girls will not have forgotten the large 
square parlor where the cake and lemonade 
were dispensed, after their hearty run to and 
from the summer house on the bank, or their 
protracted stroll through that old-fashioned 
garden, with its box borders and its profusion 
of gay native flowers. The boys never will 
forget, while memory lasts, George, Jim, and 
William, three as devoted sons and delightful 
hosts as ever can be met ; modest, spirited, well- 
trained American boys, who could gracefully 
acknowledge a kindness, and with true dignity 
resent an insult. 

Burnham's was fitly styled the family house 
of the drive. On each fine summer afternoon 
the spacious grounds were filled with ladies and 
children, who sauntered at their leisure, having 
no fear of annoyance and confident of perfect 
immunity from affront. The honest, excellent 
reputation of the host and his family acted as 
a most efficient police, and was indeed a terror 
to the evil disposed. The large family circle, 
save one daughter, have all paid the debt to 
nature. James C, "Jim," as he was familiarly 
and widely known, was the latest survivor. 
After an honorable career as commandant of 
the New York Volunteers in the Mexican War, 



Knickerbocker Life, 363 

he was taken off while yet a young man by 
disease contracted in that arduous campaign, 
thus closing honorably the career of that much 
respected family. With the death of James 
the reputation of the old stopping-place van- 
ished, and, though for several subsequent years 
its doors remained open as if to invite the pass- 
ers-by to enter, its prestige was gone, its glory 
had departed, and it became a memory. 

One moment with Corporal Thompson, and 
the drive on Manhattan Island is ended. Where 
the Fifth Avenue Hotel now stands, with its 
highly-wrought marble front and richly draped 
plate glass windows, was the site of a diminu- 
tive frame cottage, surrounded by what might 
be termed " a five acre lot," which was used, 
when used at all, for cattle exhibitions. This 
was the hostelry of Corporal Thompson, the 
last stopping-place for codgers, old and young. 
Laverty, Winans, Niblo, the Costers, Hones, 
Whitneys, Schermerhorns, the genial Sol Kipp, 
Doctor Vache, Ogden Hoffman, Nat Blunt, and 
scores more of bon vivants, hail fellows well 
met, would here end their ride for the day by 
" smiling" with the worthy Corporal, and wash 
down any of their former improprieties with a 
sip of his ne phis ultra, which was always kept 



364 Last Days of 

in reserve for a special nightcap. There was 
a special magnetism about the snug little bar- 
room, always trim as a lady's boudoir, which 
induced the desire to tarry awhile, as if that 
visit were destined to be the last ; so it fre- 
quently happened that a jolly party was com- 
pelled to grope slowly homewards through the 
unlighted gloomy road which led to the city. 

Good-bye to the Bloomingdale Road ! Adieu 
to the once famous Third Avenue ! for both 
are gone forever. The former has been 
swallowed by the aristocratic conventional 
Boulevard, which is rapidly filling its valleys, 
levelling its hillocks and straightening its once 
graceful curves, while the latter long since suc- 
cumbed to the grasping power of a railroad, 
which has driven sport away to make room for 
traffic and gain. 

Any old resident who may by chance cast 
his eye over these cursory and imperfect recol- 
lections, will find ample food for reflection, by 
spending a quiet half hour at the Fifth Ave- 
nue entrance of the Central Park. Even that 
brief time will suffice to convince him that he 
is but " a pilgrim and a stranger " in the city 
where he was born. No matter how well- 
known he may be in a circle which he consid- 



Knickerbocker Life. 365 

ers extensive and perhaps influential, he will 
discover that he is an atom of small import, 
unnoticed by the throng, occupying the costly 
equipages which enter the drive in one contin- 
uous trail. Any attempt, to scan in detail the 
imposing procession, he will soon find an im- 
possibility. A general idea of lavish expendi- 
ture, of reckless dash, will possess his mind ; 
the longer his eye is fixed upon the richly ca- 
parisoned, prancing steeds, the endless variety 
of splendid carriages, the fanciful and at times 
grotesque costumes of the occupants, the 
greater will be his bewilderment. Queries will 
flash through his brain. Who are all these peo- 
ple ? Whence do they come? What is the 
source of this boundless wealth ? The answer 
can only be had by retrospection and reflection. 
On looking back he will remember where he 
is standing, and will recall that when he was 
born, a half century since, Park Place was well 
up town, with only a scattering population 
beyond. 

He will then see what untold millions are 
now represented by the costly architectural 
piles, which now stand between the Central 
Park and the rear of that old City Hall which 
was inexpensively finished by our prudent fore- 



366 Last Days of Knickerbocker Life. 

fathers, for the reason that it would never be 
seen. He will in his mind's eye glance over 
and calculate the value of the acres of ware- 
houses lying between these points, filled to 
overflowing with the costliest fabrics that the 
looms of the civilized world can produce ; he 
will note the number of spacious hotels, whose 
inmates alone would nearly equal the popula- 
tion of the city at the date of his nativity. 
Let him go further, and contrast the lightning 
speed of the locomotive with the old rumbling 
stage, the ocean steamer with the dull packet, 
the telegraph with the slow mail-wagon. Let 
him note the wondrous strides in the mechani- 
cal arts, and realize that minutes now can ac- 
complish that which consumed laborious hours 
when he was young. Such retrospection will 
enable any one who has slept in a humdrum 
existence while the world moved on, to realize 
the source of the enormous wealth which is so 
rapidly beautifying cosmopolitan New York. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Modern New York — Grandmother's lecture — The 
Knickerbocker Home. 

KNICKERBOCKER life in New York 
is among the things that were. Sud- 
denly accumulated wealth has swept away its 
commemorative monuments. Boulevards and 
avenues have swallowed its winding streets ; 
the levelling spirit of progress has smoothed 
the hillocks that were hindrances to the speed 
of this flashing era. Imposing structures of 
marble and granite have " in the twinkling of 
an eye " displaced modest piles of homely 
brick, and costly luxuries have driven simple 
necessities to the wall. The comparison of 
the brilliant gas-light to the glimmering taper 
fails to define the marvellous transition. 

From the cemetery of past recollections the 

367 



368 Last Days of 

old Knickerbocker home, like Banquo's ghost, 
seems " to burst its cerements." With mourn- 
ful gaze, the well-remembered power of a recent 
past, grieves that it has so soon been forgotten, 
when but a few years since its title to respect 
was undisputed ; its mandates obeyed by old 
and young, rich and poor. In fancy the tower- 
ing giant of the past stands erect as of yore, 
commanding in its authoritative mien. Its un- 
flinching eye, lighted up with the consciousness 
of assured rectitude, is riveted upon the gay, 
restless throng flitting from flower to flower 
with excited glee, chasing one after another 
the senseless frivolities with which Fashion has 
strewn the highways and byways of modernized 
Gotham. Its lips appear to move, and a faint 
" Well ! well ! " falls upon the ear. This old- 
time cry was of great import to Knickerbocker 
youth ; it was sure to be heard when some ex- 
press "fireside" injunction had been disre- 
garded, or some act of wilful disobedience 
detected. 

Such of grandmother's children as may still 
be alive, can attest the weighty significance 
that attached to the tiny monosyllable ; for 
they cannot fail to recall her calm deliberation 
of utterance, the expression of hopeless doubt 



Knickerbocker Life. 369 

which at the time clouded her placid face, the 
searching glance peering above her spectacles, 
the slow swaying to and fro of her venerable 
form, stayed only when a deep-drawn sigh had 
brought relief to her wounded heart. The 
" Well ! well ! " was grandmother's text ; the 
beginning, the ending of her lecture ; it was 
typical of her despair. After it had been sol- 
emnly given out, the meeting between judge 
and culprit was a silent, protracted session. 
During this trying ordeal the kind old lady 
was sustained by her undying faith in the effi- 
cacy of the Fifth Commandment ; but as soon 
as the first evidence of penitential sorrow was 
manifested by the erring child, her bright, 
smiling forgiveness dried the tears of contri- 
tion, and promises " rich and rare " were show- 
ered upon the broken spirit, — wounded only 
to bless. 

This " Well ! well ! " of fifty years ago is a 
most fitting lament as the fact stares us in the 
face, that ruling Fashion has decreed " home, 
sweet home " shall be no more. The mandate 
affects alike the arrogant denizen of the man- 
sion and the humble inmate of the cabin. 
Palace, mansion, residence, tenement, become 
henceforth only conventional names by which 



370 Last Days of 

man's places of shelter are known, and merely 
express degrees regulated by capital, but all 
despoiled of their magnetic attraction. 

Cold prose is utterly inadequate to convey 
the refined sentiment clustering about and 
around the Knickerbocker Home. The much 
admired poet whose familiar strain commences 
with " The birds singing gaily that came at 
my call," is compelled to own the grand theme 
beyond his scope, and admit by comparison, 
"There is no place like home." But deeper 
than the most subtle vein of poetry can delve, 
far down in the hidden recesses of man's soul 
where its tendrils are imbedded, it is a felt 
but indescribable reality, — a living need. This 
Knickerbocker home was the theatre of wo- 
man's legitimate duties ; the stage upon which 
her accomplishments shone with most reful- 
gent lustre ; the realm of mother, sister, wife. 
It was the Elysium of childhood ; the cradle 
in which petty cares were rocked to sleep with 
soothing lullabies that never fade ; the play- 
ground where tottering steps were tenderly 
guarded by outstretched arms. It was the 
nursery of mind, affection, character, the Alma 
Mater to which the weary, the weak, the dis- 
pirited fled for rest, as to an enchanted shrine 



Knickerbocker Life. 371 

fanned by the soft wing of gentle Peace. Its 
code was founded on love, based on family 
honor ; it framed the laws to which society 
obsequiously bowed. 



THE END. 





INDEX. 



Abbey, the road house, 359 

" Abdallah," trotting horse, 322 

Abel's, Charley, restaurant, 152 

Abolition clique, "isms" gener- 
ated by the, 183 

Actors' Museum, 136 

Adams, John, breakfast given to, 
211 

Adonis, costume of the, 156 

Ainsworth, Captain, 58 

Alderman, the prefix of, 180 

Allen, 163 

"Alma Mater," Knickerbocker 
home, the, 370 

" American Eagle," should ruffle 
the feathers of the, 237 

" America " not yet designed or 
launched, 33 

"American Girl," trotting mare, 
321 

American Jockey Club, 320 

American Museum, 186 

American Theatre, 231 

"Americus," trotting horse, 347 

" Amilie," Balfe's Opera, 294 

Andareise, Ned, 355 

Anderson, John, tobacconist, 165 

Apollo Saloon, 214, 225, 226 

Aristocracy, 196 

Astor, 277 



Astor House, 316 
Astor Place Opera House, 152 
Astor Place Riot, 185 
Athenaeum Hotel, opened in 

1836, 138 
Auction Hotel, 126 
"Aunt Margaret," the famous 

hostess, 41 
Austin, aristocrat of the period, 

97 
Austin, Mrs., 243-245 

B 

Bachelors' Ball, a great social 

event, 61 
Bank Presidents, eccentricities 

of, 78 
Banks, had simple appointments, 

77 ; occupied a limited portion 

of Wall Street, q6 
Barber, patronized by dignified 

patricians, lor 
Barker, Captain, 56-58 
Barnes, Joseph N., 179 
Bamum, "prince of showmen," 

185, 186, 191, 192, 311 
Barry, Mrs., 245, 248 
Barker, Jacob, speculator in gen- 
eral, 131 
" Baron Pompolino," Placide as, 

260 
Bartlett, Doctor, 136 



373 



374 



Index. 



Battery, tramp from the old, 3 ; 
our breathing spot, 30 ; sum- 
mer promenade, 31 ; really a 
pleasure ground, 33 ; private 
residences on North and East 
side, 33 ; favorite parade 
ground of the militia, 35 ; 
bordering streets choice spots 
of abode, 37, 59, 153 

Bayard, Peter, a publican, 38 ; 
of epicurean fame, 39 ; his 
famous turtle soup, 39 ; every- 
body the friend of, 40, 163 

"Beau of the day," proper at- 
tire of the, 154' 

Beaver, absolutely necessary a 
high black, 155 

Beekman, aristocrat of the 
period, 97, 163, 227, 323 

" Belle of the period," 141, 156 

Bench, a seat on the, iSo 

Benjamin, Park, 136, 277 

Berrian, 166 

" Beverly, Mrs.," Emma Wheat- 
ley as, 2=;^ 

"Billy Viifiams of the Veils," 
293 

Bininger and son, Abraham, 69 

Binsie, 166 

Black, prevailing color was, 155 

Blake, actor, 293 

Blanchard, Edward, 216 

Bleakley, Tom, 269 

Bleecker, Anthony J., & Co., 70 

Bleecker Street, 153 

Bloomingdale Road, private car- 
riages seen on, 314, 336, 357 ; 
more thickly settled, 358 ; now 
virtually closed, 359 ; good- 
bye to, 364 

Blunt, Nat, 179, 363 

Boarding houses ruled the dis- 
trict, 38 

Bodice, the bride's, 159 

Bonnet, the conventional, 156 

" Bon Vivants," 363 

Booth, Junius Brutus, 136, 244, 
253 ; characteristic speech of, 
254, 262, 263, 265, 288, 290 



Booth, Edwin, 279 

Boots, Kimball's, 156 

Bottomley, William, 126 

" Bowery Boys," 217 ; habits, 

demeanor, conversation of, 

33S 
" Bowery B'Hoys," 291 
Bowery Pit, the, 2S5 
Bowery Theatre, 283 
Bowery, a thoroughfare, 2 
Bown, Walter, 179 
" Boz," rare subject for the pen 

of. 355 

Bradbury, John, 126 

Bradhurst Estate, 358 

Bradshaw's Hotel, 350-355 

Braham, vocalist, 311 

Brains, not labor, motto of the 
day, 81 

Brandy, Cato's, six and a quarter 
cents a glass, 324 

Breakneck Hill, 358 

Brick buildings, modest three 
story, 154 

Bride, on Broadway, 158, 159 

Bride's cake, of formidable pro- 
portions, 202 

Broadway House, 179, iSi, 182, 
1S3 

Broadway, Mayor's private office. 
Park Place and, 92 ; extremes 
of promenade on, 153, 154, 
160, 162, 164, 165, 168, 170, 
176, 1S6, 314, 317 ; the only- 
promenade, 353 

Bi-oadway Tabernacle, 310 

Brokers' Sanctum, 88 

Brokers were unknown, 69 

Brooks, Charley, 347 

Brough, William F., 243 

Browcr, Abraham, 176 

Brown Brothers, 79 

Brown, George W., proprietor of 
Auction Hotel, 126 

Brown, Gilley, horse orator, 

355-357 
Brown, " Robert Macaire," 137 
Browne, actor, 136, 163, 293 
Brownell, Sherman, 2i6 



Index. 



375 



Brownlee, Doctor, pastor of Mid- 
dle Dutch Church, io6, no 

Brundage, fashionable tailor, 154 

Bryant, 277 

Bryant, Dave, owner and driver 
of Suffolk, 332 

Buckley, Bent, 126 

Bull, Ole, 311 

Bull's Head, 344 

Burnham, George, 362 

Burnham, "Jim," 362 

Burnham, William, 362 

Burnham's Mansion House, 315, 
361 

Burr, Aaron, country residence 
of, 309 ; widow of, 358 

"Burton Stock Ale," so called, 
124 

Burton's Theatre, 152 

" Butler," trotting horse, 321 



" Cabinet of Minerals," 188 
" Cafe des Mille Colones," 151 
Capital makes information, 90 
Capitalists, but few, 194 
" Cardinal Richelieu," the elder 

Vandenhoff as, 294 
Carlton House, 315 
Carman, Richard F., residence 

of, 358 
Carmansville, 358 
Carriage, not a necessity, 317 
Carter, aristocrat of the period, 

97, 323 
Cartoff, Captain, 58 
" Cassio," James W. Wallack as, 

253 
Castle Garden,34 ; barracks at, 37 
Cato's, afternoon entertainment 

at, 305, 315, 322, 323 
Cato's Lane, 31 8 ; spurting spot 

for drivers, 324 
Cayuga Maid, trotting mare, 330 
Cedar and Liberty Streets, 162 
Cedar Street ship merchants, 305 
Central Park, on Sunday, 4, 30 ; 

Fifth Avenue entrance of, 364, 

365 



Chanfrau, as " Mose," 218, 292 

Chapel Street, 164 

Chapman, vocalist, 240 

Charruaud, John, the dancing- 
master, 60, 6 1 ; floor manager, 
228 

" Chesterfields," far from being, 

144 

Chevaliers d'Industrie," looked 
upon with distrust, 11 

Chivalry not dead, 123 

Chorister Earl, of the Middle 
Dutch Church, 112 

Cigars, five ft)r a shilling, 323 

" Cinderella," 243 

City Guards, 36 

City Hall, 132, 365 

City Hall bell, 215 

t!ity Hotel, most celebrated in 
the city, 44 ; dining-room of, 
45 ; modern improvements in- 
troduced, 47 ; choice viands 
of, 48 ; three o'clock dinner 
hour, 48 ; choice spirits of, 49 ; 
wine cellar of, 49 ; well-known 
characters of, 51, 54 ; ladies' 
dining-room, 59 ; sea captains' 
headquarters, 59, 65, 68, 69, 
148 

Claremont, the celebrated, 336, 
358 

Clark, Aaron, Mayor of the city 
91, 92, 179 

Clark and Brown, the dining- 
room of, 124 

Clark and Saxton, fashionable 
haberdashers, 154 

Clarke, actor, 296 

Clarke, McDonald, " the mad 
poet," 136, 168, 169 

Clarke, Miss, actress, 301 

Clay and Frelinghuysen, 182 

Clay, Harry, 182, 183 

Clifton, Josephine, 137 ; theatri- 
cal goddess of the Bowery, 287 

Clinton, 163 

Clinton, Sir Henry, 38 

Cloak or shawl, hung rag-like,i57 

Coat, black frock, 155 



Z7^ 



Index. 



Cobble-stones, 319 

Coddington, Jonathan I., Post- 
master, 129 

Coffee house, 64, 94, 95, 96 

Coit, 166 

Golden, Cadwallader D., 179 

Columbia College, campus and 
first location of, 162 

Colvill, 176 

"Come, Brothers, Arouse," pop- 
ular song of the day, 62 

Commerce, imperative demand 
for space by, 37 

Coney Island, 32 

" Confidence," trotting horse, 
322, 347 

Contoit, proprietor of New York 
Garden, 160 

Cooke, actor, 136, 244 

Cooper, actor, 136, 244 

Cooper Institute, 131 

Cortlandt and Dey Streets, sec- 
ond-class boarding houses in, 
162 

Coster, John H., 132, 165, 277, 363 

Country seat on the Hudson or 
East River, 319 ; unpretend- 
ing, 359 

Cowan, William, of the Crosby 
Street Bazaar, 329 

Cowdrey, Sam, 357 

Cox, " Dandy," fashionable cari- 
cature, 172, 173 

Cox, Reverend Doctor Samuel 
H., 114, 167 

Credit supplied the place of 
capital, 78 

"Croesus, Mrs.," her prepuffed 
entertainment, 17 

Cniger, 163, 277 

Cushman, Charlotte, 245,249,251 

Custom House, 129, 132 

D 

" Daisy Burns," 131 
Dancing, indulged in moder- 
ately, 59 



Dandies, primitive, 156 

" Danseuse," the, 246 

" Dazzle," Richings as, 268 

De Begnies, vocalist, 311 

" Debut," Saturday night, 273 

De Grand Valle, Monsieur, bal- 
let-master, 222 

De Grasse, Comte, 165 

Delafield, 166 

Delmonico, 139, 140,146,148,150 

Delmonico's Restaurant in 1870, 
139. 140, 145 

Depau, Silvie, daughters of, 165 

De Peyster, 163 

" Desdemona," Emma Wheatley 
as, 253 

De Witt, Doctor, pastor of Mid- 
dle Dutch Church, 106, no 

" Dexter," trotting horse, 321, 
331 

Dey Street, a first-class residence 
in, 97 

Dignity always maintained, 197 

Dinneford, manager, 283 

Dinner, noon hour devoted to, 46 

Dinner-parties not fashionable, 
212 

Dives, no convenient, 47 

Dog pit, assembly room became 
a, 6r 

Door-plates, old family, 163, 166 

D'Orsays, far from being, 144 

Douglas, 277 

Downing, George T., 133 

Downing's famous cellar, 128 

Drake, 277 

Dramatic temples of young 
America, 2S2 

Dress, grandmother studied and 
appreciated, 209 

" Drinks all around," 347 

" Drum, Mr.," 241, 242 

Duane, 163 

Dunderdale Brothers, athletes, 34 

Dunham, General, with his 
powerful Moscow, 329 

Dutch Dignity, 214 

Dutch Reformed Church, service 
at, 7 



Index. 



Z77 



Dutchman, the phlegmatic, 102 
" Dutchman, "trotting horse, 322 
Dwight, George A., 136, 277 
Dyspepsia, an American weak- 
ness, 4S 



" Early to bed and early to rise," 

195 

Eating houses, limited in num- 
ber, 120 

Eighth Avenue Railroad, 178 

Elders and Deacons of Middle 
Dutch Church, 108 

Ellsler, Fanny, poetess of mo- 
tion, 297 

Elmendorf, fashionable tailor, 

154 
Elm Park, once Colonel Thome's 

country seat, 361 
" Emilia," Mrs. Sefton as, 253 
Employer and employee, status 

of, 195 
England and the United States, 

subject of discussion, 236 
English Opera, 243 ; introduction 

of, 294 
English plum pudding in the 

dining-room, 124 
Engs, Philip W., 179 
Equipages of Dandy Marx, 337 
Erie, 100 shares of, 85, 86, 87, 

88, 89, 90 
"Ethan Allen," trotting horse, 

331 
Exchange office, used as broker's 
sign, 80 ; men, 91 



Falk, Doctor, of Flushing, 329 

Family Bible, 26 

Fashion, says to attend church is 
respectable, 4 ; ruled as ever, 
12 ; gives serious offence to, 
14 ; tabooed by, 38 ; senseless 
frivolities of, 368 ; decree of, 
369 



Fay, Theodore S., 62, 277 

" Fern, Fanny," 141 

Fifth Avenue Hotel, night ren- 
dezvous of the restless spirits, 
86 ; its site occupied by small 
frame cottage, 363 

Financial Crash of 1837, 319 

Firemen, New York, 215 

Firemen's Ball, 219 

Fisher, Clara, 245 ; debut of, 
258 

Fisher Family, the, 247 

Fisher, John, 136, 250, 268, 269; 
died, 270 

Flirtations, innocent and less ex- 
pensive, 32 

" Flora Temple," the world re- 
nowned, 330 ; Queen of the 
trotting turf, 331 

Ford, carriage maker, 317 

Form and Ceremony, great stick- 
lers for, 196 

Forrest, Edwin, 137, 253, 284 

Four-in-hand Teams, but two, 

314 
Fowlers, 165 

Francis, Mr., landlord, 360 
Franklin Theatre, 231, 290 
French Cashmere shawls, 207 
French Citizens, few in number, 

139 

Fruits and Vegetables, supply 
very limited, 46 

" Full Moon " of the Park 
Theatre stage, 280 

Fulton Market, at high noon, 
121 

Fulton Street, a first-class resi- 
dence in, 97 

Funerals, arbitrary custom of 
supplying scarfs at, 95 

Funk, Captain, 58 

Furniture, quaint pieces of, 27 



Gambling, whirling torrent of 
reckless, 83 ; approved by the 
Legislature, 91 



2>7^ 



Index. 



Garden, Dance and Song, of the 
German element, 214 

Garrick, the sword of, 136 

Garrison, VV. Lloyd, 310 

Gibbons of New Jersey, 320 

Gillingham, Miss Emma, lead- 
ing choir singer, 104 

Gilsey House formerly Cricket 
Ground. 125 

" Ginger-Bread Man," i6g, 171 

Glentworth, James B., pioneer 
of political pipe-layers, 131 

Godwin, carriage maker, 317 

Godwin, Parke, 136 

Gold, is " 200," 84 

" Goldsmith Maid," 321, 331 

Gotham, under its primitive rule, 
3 ; modernized, 36S 

Governor's Island, 35 

Grace Church, the original, 103 ; 
eminently fashionable to attend 
service at, 104 ; choir unequalled 
at, 104 ; attractions of, 105 

Graham, 163 

Grand Boulevard, 361 

" Grandfather Whitehead," Pla- 
cide as, 258, 260 

Grandmother, in full regalia, 
203 ; her children, 368 ; her 
text, 369 

Grandmother's Parlor, 24 

Greenhouses, 201 

Greenwich Village, stage line to, 

177 
Grinnell, Moses H., 179 
Groom, the conventional, 159 
Guerin, Francis, 139, 148, 150 ; 

the old signs of, 151 
Gulick, James, 216 
Gurner, Mrs., 245, 248 

H 

Hackett, John FalstafI, 293 

Hackney Coaches, 317 

Haggerty, and Sons, John, aristo- 
crats of the period, 97 ; 
auctioneers, 126 ; gentleman 
Jack, 132 



Hall, Asa, 178 

Hall, Charles Henry, 319, 320 
Hall, Oakey, 179 
Halleck, Fitz-Greene, book- 
keeper for John Jacob Astor, 

author, etc., 131, 136, 252, 

277 
" Haller, Mrs.," Cushman as, 

251 ; Emma Wheatley as, 253 
Hamblin, Thomas S., 136, 137 ; 

manager, 283, 284 
" Hamlet," at Booth's, 278 ; 

Kean's, at the Park, 279 ; 

Edmund Booth's impersona- 
tion of, 279 
Handkerchief of the bride, 158 
Hard Cider always on tap, 181 
Harlem, 318 ; dwellers of, 325 
Harlem Lane, 318, 329; typical 

publican of, 349 ; swallowed 

up, 358 
Harlem Railroad, meets its first 

check at Yorkville Hill, 130 
Harlem River, 319 ; at 105th 

Street, 334 
Harnden and Adams, original 

expressmen, 98 
Harrington, Bill, 182 ; the 

Bowery Boy, 338 ; political 

boss, 339 
Harrison, General, the Whig 

candidate, 18 r 
Hazard House, the, 318, 327, 

32S, 351 
Headgear of the bride, 158 
Henry, Earl of Northampton, 

eulogy of, 163 
Herbert, William Henry, author, 

345 
" Here 's to you, Harry Clay," 

181 
Highbridge Line, 325 
" Highland Fling " in ruffled 

pantalettes, 245 
Hill, " Yankee," 190 
Hippodrome Trickery, 320 
Hoagland, Sim, 347 
Hoey, John, Superintendent of 

the Adams Express, 99 



Index. 



379 



Hoffmann, L. M., auctioneer, 

126 
Hoffmann, Ogden, 277, 363 
Hoffmire, Edward, 216 
Holdridge, Captain, 58 
HoUingsworth, an emigma, 54, 

58 
Home, the family castle, 18 ; 

simple, unostentatious, 29 ; 

lessons inculcated, 29 ; price- 
less heirloom was, 197 
Home Manufactures satisfied 

Knickerbocker taste, 195 
Hone, Mayor Philip, aristocrat 

of the period, 97, 179, 277 ; 

equipage of, 316, 323, 363 
" Honest John," trotting horse, 

330 
Honor, not salary or fees, the 

aim, 180 
Horn, Charles E., 105, 311 
Hosack, aristocrat of the period, 

97, 166 
Hose, of spotless white, 157 
Hostelries, 321 
Hotels, all at Southern end of 

the Island, 40 
Hotel Life, drawbacks against, 

40 
Howard, Harry, 216 
Howard, Keeler, and Scofield, 

fashionable tailors, 99 
Hunter, Bruce, 357 
Hunter, John.of Hunter's Island, 

314 
Hurd, Philo, 130 

I 

" lago," the great Booth as, 253 
" Ice Pony," trotting horse, 322 
Insurance Companies upish in 

their ideas, 71 
Insurance Offices, occupied a 

limited portion of, 96 
" Ion," trotting horse, 326 
Iron Chest indispensable in an 

insurance office, 72 
Isherwood, of the old Park Thea- 
tre, 281 



Italian Citizens few in number, 

139 
Italian Opera, 151, 292 
" Ivy Green," popular song of 

the day, 62 

J 

Jackson, colored caterer of the 

day, 199 
" Jack Cade," Forrest as, 284 
"Jacques Strop," Williams as, 

293 

Janeway, William, guiding a pair 
of cropped sorrels, 329 

Janeway, George, with " Dutch- 
man" and mate, 329 

Jauncey Lane, 360 

Jauncey, Miss, wealthy heiress, 
361 

Jennings, Chester, 50 ; Superin- 
tendent of Hotel details, 67, 
68 

Jennings and Willard .proprietors 
of the City Hotel, 04 

Jerome Park, 320 

Johnston, Captain, 58 

Johnston, Colonel, of Virginia, 
320 

Jollie, Allen R., 216 

Jones, Evan, 176 

Jones, Bradford, 185 

Jones, Edmund, 335 ; proprietor 
of Claremont, 359 

Jones, Mr., Park Theatre tenor, 

243 
"Julia," Emma Wheatley as, 

253 : Fanny Kemble as, 271 
Jumel, Madame, mansion of, 358 

K 

Kean, Charles, first appearance 
of, 261, 278, 280 ; second visit, 

295 
Kean, Edmund. 136, 244 
Kean, Mrs. Charles, 326 
Kemble, Charles, 166, 244, 271 
Kemble, Fanny, 244, 271 
Kimball and Rogers, fashionable 

boot makers, 154 



38o 



Index, 



Kingsbridge, 358 

Kirby, stage-struck genius, 291 

Kipp and Brown, 178 

Kipp Mansion, 175 

Kipp, Sol., genial, warm-hearted, 

178, 363 

Knapp, Shepherd, residence of, 
358 

Knickerbocker frugality, 2 ; tea, 
48 ; barbershop, 102 ; youths, 
146 

Knickerbocker Home, recollec- 
tions of the, 368 ; refined senti- 
ment of, 370 

Knickerbocker Life, in keeping 
with its Sabbath, 11 ; genuine 
hospitality, a prominent feat- 
ure of, 18 ; uniform, 212 

Knickerbocker Sabbath, long, 
solemn, 5 ; has out-lived its 
generation, 10 

Knowles, Sheridan, 252 

Knox, Doctor, pastor of Middle 
Dutch Church, 106, no 

Kyle, Alexander, champion flute- 
player, 242 



"Lady Bemis," trotting mare, 
330 

" Lady Gay Spanker," 250 

" Lady Macbeth," Fanny Kem- 
ble as, 271 

" Lady Suffolk," celebrated trot- 
ting mare, 332 

" Lady Thorn," trotting mare, 
321 

Lafayette Place, 185 

Lafayette Theatre, 308 

Lambert, Daddy, wax present- 
ment of, 187 

Land Speculation, of 1835, 70 

La Tarantule, ballet, 29S, 299 

Laverty, 363 

Law, George, 130 ; and his mill- 
ions, 178 



Lawrence, Abraham R., Presi- 
dent of Harlem Railroad, 129 

Lawrence, Cornelius \V., 179 

Lawyers not a formidable body, 
69 

Lee, F. R., 216 

Lee, Gideon, 179 ; residence of, 
35S 

Leggatt, editor of The Even- 
ing Post, 284 

" Leg of Mutton" sleeves, 159 

Lewis, Elijah F., 216 

Light Guards, 36 

" Lime-Kiln Man," 171 

Lind, Jenny, 311 

Lines, Captain, 58 

" Little Pickle," Clara Fisher as, 
258 

Livery business, a risky under- 
taking, 176 

Livingston, 165, 277 

"Loco-Foco" party, sins and 
wickednesses of the, 181 

Log Cabin, at Broadway and 
Prince Street, 181 

London Assurance, 250 

Long, Edward, 69 

Lord, Samuel, 126, 166 

Lotteries, legal enterprises, 91 

Luff, Ned, popular host, 348 

Lunch, very modern word, 47 

Lydig, 166 

M 

McArdle, Captain, 36 

McCreedy, Den, 357 

McGowan, William, original resi- 
dence of, 335, 336 

McLean, George W., 37 ; Colonel 
" Wash," 355 

McMann, James D., driver of 
" Flora Temple," 331, 347 

" Mac," trotting horse, 330 

" Madame Nouveau Riche," 17 

Madeira and Santa Cruz, on the 
sideboard, 26 

Madison Square, 318 

Maine, energetic sons of, 3 



Index. 



381 



Maiden Lane, John and Fulton 
Streets, 162 

Mammon, worshippers of, 82 

Manhattan, race for notoriety in, 
29 

Manhattan Island, genealogy on, 
2 ; first foot-prints of indus- 
trious toil, 3 ; drive ended on, 

363 

Manhattanville, 357 

Maniort, proprietor of the Knick- 
erbocker barbershop, 102, 201 

Mann, Miss Margaret, noted 
boarding-house of , 41 

Manor- Houses of New York, 
entertainments in, 211 

" Man of the World," old fash- 
ioned phrase, 143, 144 

" Marine Telegraph," semaphore 
known as the, 128 

Markets, not bare of delicacies, 

45 
" Mark Meddle," Richings as, 

268 
Marquand & Co., 69 
Marriage Feast, the 203 
Marryat, Captain, 63 
Marriages decorously brought 

about, 32 
Marshall, Captain, 58 
Marshall, "Colonel Tom," 76 
Martell, the coiffeur, 201 
Marx, Henry, noted exquisite of 

his day, 314 ; "Dandy," 315, 

337 
" Mary," known to every one as 

the Adjutant General of the 

Hotel, 67 
Mason, Charles, 244 
Mason, Charles Kemble,i37, 271 
Mason, John, 244; actor, 271 ; 

doctor, 272 
Mason, James, representative 

young American, 253, 255 
Mason, John, President of 

Chemical Bank, 253, 255 
Mason, Mrs. James, nie Emma 

Wheatley, 255, 256, 257, 270 
Massett, Stephen, 136, 296 



Matins are the mode, 4 
Maxims of the day, 33 
" Mazourka," the, 245 
Meals, of our forefathers, 19 
" Meg Merrilies," Cushman as, 

251 
Merchants' Exchange, 129 
" Metamora," Forrest as, 284 
Metropolitan Hotel, 303, 304 
Middle Dutch Church, then the 

Post Office, 106 ; singing at, 

in ; chorister of, 112 
Milhau's Pharmacy, 69 
Miller, George W., of the New 

York Tattersalls, 329 
Milliners and dressmakers, from 

the classic region of Division 

Street, 226 
Millions, the goal was, 83 
Mirror, the, 63 
" Missouri," Miss, 287 
" Mistletoe Bough," first sung in 

boarding-house parlor, 43 
Mitchell, actor, manager, 293, 

296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 

302 
Modern Middle Dutch Church, 

Fifth Avenue and 29th Street, 

113 
Modesty, under old-fashioned 

rule, 123 
" Modus," Richings, as, 268 
Moffatt, Doctor, original pill 

man, 360 
Monson, 166 
Mont Plaisir Troupe of Dancers, 

283 
Morning Courier and New York 

Inquirer, 76 
" Morning's Ruddy Beams 

Tinged the Eastern Sky," 

simple melody, 294 
Morris, George P., 62, 136, 277 
Mortgage, clutches of the tyrant, 

29 
Morton, Major-General, official 

and domestic headquarters of, 

35 
" Mose," Chanfrau as, 292 



382 



Index. 



Mosquitoe, the, burlesque ballet, 

298 
Mott, aristocrat of the period, 

97 
Mott, Doctor Valentine, 316 ; 

summer home of, 360 
Mott, Lucretia, 310 
"Mountain Boy," trotting horse, 

131. 321 
" Mulberry Mania," 117 
Mummy, the wonderful, 188 
Museum Lecture Room, igo, 192 
"My Boyhood's Home," simple 

melody, 294 
" Myron Perry," trotting horse, 

131 



N 



Napoleon, Louis, and the jolly 

French barber, 103 
National Theatre, 253, 2S3 ; 

opening of, 292 ; burned, 296 
" Ned Forrest," trotting horse, 

322, 347 
Negro Coachmen in livery, 

marked objects for comment, 

314 
New York, of 1830, i ; not a 
dancing city, 214 ; cosmopoli- 
tan, 366 ; Knickerbocker life 
in, 367 
New York Garden, 159 
New York Hospital, 164 
New York Hotel, 175 
I\/'ew York Observer, 26 
New England Puritanism, 214 
New Hampshire, energetic sons 

of, 3 
Niblo, Billy, 64, 304, 363 
Niblo's Garden, a rural spot, 2 
Niblo's Suburban Pleasure 

Ground, 303 
Niblo, Mrs., 305-307 
Nickerson, actor, 293, 296 
Night Watchmen, day cartmen 

were, 75 
Noah, 277 
North Dutch Church, 145 



Norwood, Carlisle, 216 
jVtinquam non paratus, Win- 
dust's saloon motto, 135 



O 



Offices, not numerous, 69 
Orchestra of the Park Theatre, 

239 
Otis, Jim, 136 
" Othello," Forrest as, 253 
Old Guard, 37 
" Old Hays," high constable and 

factotum in our criminal court, 

72, 73, 74 
Old Park Fogies, 282 
Olympic, the, 296, 302, 303 
Omnibuses, few in number, 174, 

325 
One Hundred and Twenty-fifth 

Street, the travelled road that 

crossed the northern end of 

the Island, 357 
Oysters, on the Canal Street 

plan, 134 



Palaces of modern Aladdins, 29 

Palmo, Signor, 151 

Palmo's Opera House, 152 

Panic, 90 

Pantaloons, tight to the skin, 
black, 155 

Pantry, grandmother's, 20 

Parasol, of the period, 157 

Park Place, a rising family in 
aristocratic, 97, 154 ; was well 
up-town, 365 

Park Row, 134 

Park Theatre, the, 134, 231, 246, 
249, 261 ; burned in 1847, 283 

Parties, not of frequent occur- 
rence, 199 

Paternal Rule was supreme, 198 

" Pauline," Miss Vandenhoff as, 

295 
Paulding, William, 163, 179 
Peale's Museum, 1S6 



Index. 



383 



" Peggy Magee," trotting mare, 

322 
" Pelham," trotting horse, 330, 

347 
" Penates " of grandmother's 

pantry, 24 
Pentz, A. F., 216 
Perrin, JohnC, owner of "Flora 

Temple," 330 
Phillips, Austin, 105, 311 
Phillips, Doctor, pastor Wall 

Street Presbyterian Church, 97 
Phillips, Wendell, 310 
Phoenix, Phillips, 3S 
Pit, the, 234 
Placide, Harry, actor, 136, 138, 

243, 250, 258, 260 

Poe, Edgar A. , well-known story 
of, 165 

Poole, Bill, 182 

Poole, Mrs., 294 

Porter, Doctor, 136 

Porter, Frank, 346 

Porter, George, 346 

Porter, Olcott, 346 

Porter, William T., 320 ; shout- 
ing vigorously to " Confi- 
dence," 329 ; at the Red 
House, 344 ; died, 346 

Post-Ofhce, 132 

Post Road, 164 

Povey, John, actor, 250, 268, 269 

Power, Tyrone, actor, 44, 136, 

244, 260 

Price, William M., District At- 
torney, 129 

Pride, George L., 132 ; "Gen- 
tleman George," 352, 354 

Prime, Edward, 38 

Prime, Ward and King, banking 
house of, 38, 79 

Prince Street in 1S30, 2 

" Prince of Saddle Rock," 
Downing, the, 133 

" Princess," trotting mare, 331 

Pulaski cadets, 36 

Purdy, A. B., 216 

" Publicks" dances called, 60 

Putnam's Monthly, 211 



R 



Rabineau's swimming bath, 35 
Race Track, at the Red House, 

346 
Railway and Mining Mania un- 
known, 81 
" Rattler," trotting horse, 347 
Ravel Family, the great, 307 
Red House, the, 318, 329, 333 ; 
how located, 334 ; spot to 
lounge away an hour, 336 ; 
genus homo to be met at, 339, 
344, 346, 347 ; good-bye to, 

349. 351 

Reformed Dutch Parents, heart- 
burnings of, 104 

Register, the office of, 70 

Reliable Information, the false- 
hearted jade, 89 ; don't wait 
until to-morrow for, 90 

Retrospection, 366 

Reynolds, Tom, 357 

Rice, "Daddy," original negro 
minstrel, 191 

" Richard," young Kean as, 
262 

" Richard is himself again," 264 

Richings, Caroline, actress, 267 

Richings, Peter, actor, 136, 250, 
266 

Richmond Hill Theatre, 231, 
30S 

" Rifle," trotting horse, 322 

Riker, "Dickey," the venerable 
Recorder, 73 

Riker, John, 216 

"Robert Macaire," Brown as, 

293 
Rockaway Beach, 32 
" Roderigo," William Wheatley 

as, 253 
Rogers, Lewis, proprietor of Red 

House, 335 
Rogers, Mary, " the beautiful 

cigar girl," 165 
Rollins, athletes, 34 
" Romeo," the coming, 273, 274, 

27=; 



384 



Index. 



Rowan, Mr., ministerial horse 

dealer, 341, 342, .,43 
Russell, old door-plate of, 166 
Russell, Henry, an English ]&vi 

62, 63 ' 

Rushton's drug store, 69 



Saloons were not the mode 122 
Saltus, Colonel Nick, 51, 57 
Sandy Hook, fresh arrivals an- 
nounced from, 59 
Sanford, Charles W., lawyer 
^ manager, Major-Cieneral, 308* 
' Santa Cruz Toddy," grand- 
father's, 28 
Saratoga Springs restorative 

qualities, 32 
Sargent, Epes, 252 
Saturday baked meats, 6 
" Sative qui pent," the order for 

getting out of Erie, 90 
Schenck, Peter H., 38 
Schermerhorn, 277, 363 
Schermerhorn and Ray, 38 
Scott, Jack, 136, 137 ; 'a Bowery 

star, 285 
Scudder, John, 186 
Second Ward Hotel, 335 
Sefton, John, actor, 306 
Sefton, Mrs., actress, 253 
Segue, Sam, well known horse 

dealer, 340 
Seguin, Mr. and Mrs., opera 

smgers, 294 
" Set up them pins" 275 
Shaw, Mrs., actress, 287, 2S8 
Sheppard, Dick, 355 
Sheriff, Mrs., actress, 294 
Shute, Bill, horse trader, 356 
Siddons, Mrs., 25 r, 271 
Simpson, Edmund, 276 
Simpson and Price, managers 
232 ^ ' 

Sinclair, the father of Mrs. Ed- 
win Forrest, 43 
"Sir Harcourt Courtley," Pla- 
cide as, 260 



'?6o^^^^' "^^^^^^-''P^acideas, 
Skirt, plain untrimmed, 157 
Slipper, heelless, fiat 157 
Smith, Gerrit, 310 
Sociables, City Hotel, 228 • dis- 
continued, 229 ' 
Social Enjoyment, no lack of 
19 

Society, moderate in everything 
2r3 ; did not demand carriages,' 

Somerindyke, Jake, 347 
■^^H^'^'^'';'? Board in Middle 

Dutch Church, 107 
Spanish Cloak " good for best " 

during fifty winters, 100 
Spanish Dance considered ex- 
citing, 60 
'' Spartacus," Forrest as, 284 
Spicer, George. 347 
Spirit of Speculation, all classes 

pervaded with, 81 
Stage, Park Theatre, 276 
Stages, few in number, 174 
Stars, Theatrical, 244 
State Street, 35 
Steers, George, 33 
Stevenson, Frank, 355 
Stiff High Chairs about the fire- 
place, 28 
Stock, black satin, 155 
Stock Exchange, 82, 84 
Stryker's Bay, road house, 

360 
St. George Cricket Club, forma- 
tion of, 125 

St John, Charies, celebrated 

hatter, 65 
St. John and Toucey, 99 
St. John's Park, 165, 166 
Stuart's Candy Store, 317 
Sunday, day of pleasure and 

recreation, 3 ; beasts included 

in Code, 7 
Swartwout, Samuel, Collector of 

the Port, I2g 
Sweetmeats, quality was the aim 

22 ' 



Index. 



585 



" Tacony," trotting horse, 330 
Tallmadge, Frederick A., 179, 

323 

Tammany Hall, 214 

Tammanyites too pugnacious, 
229 

Tappan, Arthur, 310 

Tattersalls, 341 

Taylor, John, 126 

Taylor, Mary, actress, 296, 300, 
302 

Ten Eyck, 163 

Ten o'clock mandate, iq8 

Thanksgiving, the Yankee, 213 

" The Maniac," popular song of 
the day, 62 

The Spirit of the Times, ac- 
knowledged sporting journal, 

344 
" The Spoiled Child," 258 
" There 's no place like home," 

370 
Third Avenue, 318 ; known as 

Macadamized Road, 321, 324, 

329, 333. 334 ; good-bye to, 

364 
Third Avenue Railroad Depot, 

324 
Thomas, Theodore, and his 

orchestra on Sunday nights, 5 
Thompson, Corporal, landlord, 

363 
Thompson, George W., famous 

ball player, 350 
Thompson, James, confectioner, 

122 
Thorburn, Grant, florist, 115, 

ir8 
Thome, Colonel, country seat 

of, married, 361 
Tilbury, the ponderous, 315 
" Tin-Pot Alley," 315 
" Tippecanoe and Tyler Too," 

180 
Titus, James H., 216 
" To spend the evening," in- 
vitation, 204 



" To take tea," invitation, 204 
Tobin, John M., 130 
Toilets, far from graceful, 12 
Tompkins Blues, 36 
Tontine Society, 93, 95, 96 
" Tousan Tank, me art too fool " 

300 
Transatlantic Packet Ships, 58 
Treadwell, Mr., veteran driver, 

329 
Tree, Miss Ellen, actress, 244, 

326 
" Trustee " trotted twenty miles 

within the hour, 347 
Tyron and Derby, fashionable 

tailors, 154 



U 



United States Hotel, then best 
known as Holt's, 127 



Vache, Doctor, 363 
Van Buren, President, 181 
Van Cortlandt, 163, 323 
VandenhofTs, the, 294 
Vanderbilt, Commodore, 130; 

the youthful, 318 
Vandewater, Clark, 347 
Vanity Fair, 18 
Van Rensselaer, 277 
Varian, Isaac L., 216 
Vauxhall Garden, 131, 183, 184, 

185 
Vermont, energetic sons of, 3 
Vernon, Mrs., actress, 138, 245, 

247, 248, 258, 269 
" Vieuxtemps," 311 
Vincent, Captain, 36 
" Vin Ordinaire'' 147 
Visiting not an empty ceremony, 

199 
Volunteer Fire Department, 

214 
Vyse, William, 351 



386 



Index. 



w 

Wagons, light (?), 317 

" Wake me up when Kirby dies," 

2QI 

Walcott, actor, 266 
Waldo, Frank, 355 
Walker's Lane, 164 
Wall Street, 76, 79. 8r, 84, 86, 

88, 89, qr, 96, 99, 100, 130 
Wall Street Presbyterian Church, 

97 
Wallack, J. W., 136, 244, 253, 

293, 295 
Wallackian Vanity, 295 
Walters, Henry, liveryman, 354 
Warehouses, few business places 

known as, 69 ; acres of, 366 
Washington, portrait of, 187 
Washington Heights, 358 
Washington Hotel, once famous 

mansion, 38 
Washington Place, 182 
Watts's Hymns, main stay of the 

household, 26 
Wave, famous four-oared crew of, 

34 

Webb, Colonel James Watson, 
76 

Wedding, pretentious prepara- 
tions for, 1 99 

" Well, well," of fifty years ago, 

369 
Werckmeister, the Colonel's right 
bower, 52 ; importer of toys, 

53 
Westervelt, Harmon, 216 
Wetmore, Prosper M., 182 
"Whalebone," trotting horse, 

347 
Wheatley Emma, actress, 245 ; 

debut of, 251, 252, 255 
Wheatley, Mrs., actress, 245, 246 
Wheatley, Wilham, 253. 270 
Wheeler, fashionable tailor, 154 
Wheeler, William, 347 
Whig Headquarters, 179 



" Whips " who officiated for 

thirty years, 325 
White, Bobby, President of 

Manhattan Company, 131 
Whitney, Stephen, 38, 132, 363 
Whittingham furnished the 

bridal robe, 200 
" Wild cat money," 80 
Wiley, Captain W. L., popular 

politician, 360 
Wilkes, Ham, 132 
Willard, landlord, hatless for 

many years, 65 ; wonderful 

memory, 66, 67, 68 
Williams, Billy, 136 
Willis, N. P., 62, 136, 277 
Wilmerding & Co., auctioneers, 

126, 131 
Wilson, Mr., opera singer, 294 
Winans, 363 
" Wind of the Winter's Night," 

popular song of the day, 62 
Windust, Edward, 134, 138 
Woman, modestly attired, 15 ; 

resolved to battle against the 

world, 123 ; verily a puzzle, 

143 
Wood, Mr. and Mrs., opera 

singers, 235 
Woodlawn, road house, 359 
" Woodman, Spare that Tree," 

popular song of the day, 62 
Woodruff, Hiram, 347 
Woodruff, Isaac, 347 



" Yankee Doodle," trotting 
horse, 347 

Yorkville, dwellers of, 325 

Yorkville Tunnel, 129 

Young, 244 

Young America, fast, 143 ; re- 
solved to dance openly, 227 ; 
and his " 2.40" trotter, 318 

Young Bachelors' Association, 61 



iP 



J 928 



C 



